Day 16: Fireflies

Last night we saw the first fireflies of the season. Joy!

My firefly memories go back to age 4, living for one year in the suburbs of Philadelphia. The fireflies were plentiful in our yard, magical to a little girl. They danced in the shadows under the lilac bush and fruit trees, then emerged for a glowlight party as darkness deepened across the lawn. So many! If you lost sight of one, another would light up right beside you. I caught them in my hands, running barefoot across the lawn in my nightgown just before bedtime. My sister and I kept those magical creatures in jars beside our beds, natural nightlights. I was so disappointed that they were all dead by morning.

Then we moved to Wisconsin, where I saw an occasional firefly but rarely more than one or two at once. Being sparse and harder to catch, each individual firefly was charged with more magic and mystery, more like the mythical will-o-the-wisps that lured travelers astray than like the thronging multitude of my Philly memories. The older I grew, the more my memories seemed unreal, impossible. Could there really have been as many fireflies as I imagined? Could I really have caught those elusive insects myself at that young age?

My husband and I moved to New Jersey as young professionals. That first June, when the fireflies came out, I knew it was true: they really did exist in the grand galaxies I remembered as a little girl. They really were easy enough to catch that even a four year old can gather a constellation of her own. When I told my mother about the fireflies, she said she always thought God made them just for children: amazing to see and slow enough to catch. I agree with her.

These days, I find great joy in sharing fireflies with my children. I love how excited they get, like last night, when we see the first one. I love how excited they will get later when I let them stay up late and catch fireflies. I remember last year, Huckle running across the lawn, yelling, "There's another! I've got it! Mom, I've got 14 fireflies now!" And Sally busily and quietly tracking her own jarful in competition with her brother.

I love the science built into the firefly's light. I love that the firefly's light is the most efficient light known: 100% of its energy is turned to light, rather than being lost as heat, as in our manufactured bulbs. We have yet to learn how to make something already nearly perfect in nature. I love that the chemicals taste terrible, so the conspicuousness of the firefly also protects it. And I love that, as a scientist, I had the honor of using those chemicals (the enzyme luciferase) to track gene expression under the microscope. The only things cooler than cells are glowing cells!

I also love the peace of fireflies once my little chasers are in bed. I look out the window and see the flickering lights in the silence of the night. Fireflies are the Christmas lights of summertime, the fairy lights that decorate our patio and yard. They are the lowest and warmest level of the night sky: belong the stars with their awe-inspiring height and the moon with its benevolent glow are the friendly fireflies, right here among us.