Everything looked better from my grandparents brick porch. The green velvet grass, the spicy smell of the boxwood and the swooping curves of the Elm trees. Everything looked hopeful from there. I would sit on the warm bricks, and the skin of my legs would get imprinted w/all the rivulets and crannies. I could still hear their laughter, and the clinking of their tall glass Tab bottles. but I was a million miles away. I couldn't quite hear the words they were spelling, but I knew they were engrossed in their nightly Scrabble.
I would sit w/my head in my hands, waiting. I could sit forever waiting for dusk and anticipation the very first firefly. There! There it is . Was that one? Was it my imagination? I know I saw a red spark. I thought I did? The first one is the best. Is there more? Is it time? Yes! The second one confirms it. Then suddenly there are dozens. They are here, and I sigh and relax.
We always have a competition of sorts to see who see the first one of the season! I love your attention to detail and your voice shines through! Lovely slice of summer memories.
ReplyDeleteLeigh Ann, thank you! These are the best memories for me. The first couple fireflies are the best because of the anticipation.
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