-2006-

WHEN A FIREFLY BURNS TOO BRIGHT, DOES IT KNOW ITS DESTINED TO DIE?

Maybe they don't.

Maybe they're just like stars, burning bright until they can't anymore.

Lavender-scented breezes whispered through the tall grass as I raced across the meadow, my bare feet sinking into the cool, soft earth with each step. My dad always said, The darker the soil, the deeper the secrets. He'd show me how to feel it, how to understand it. The soil remembers, he'd tell me as we worked the fields together, his hands guiding mine to dig into the ground, feeling the richness, the life hidden beneath the surface. The earth held onto the stories of seasons past, keeping them safe, waiting for someone to come along and listen.

And I did listen. I'd sneak away to the creek, where the soil turned to cool, thick mud, and I'd press my feet into it, letting the ground swallow them whole. The world around me would quiet down, and I'd focus on the sounds—the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the chirping of crickets, the steady murmur of the water. In those moments, I understood what my dad meant, even if I couldn't put it into words.

Tonight, the fireflies were everywhere, their tiny lights blinking in the dark, like stars scattered across the sky, only now they were close enough to touch. I chased after them, my breath coming in short bursts as I tried to catch one in my hands.

It felt like a dream.

I paused for a moment, the cool breeze ruffling my curls as I stood there, letting the night wrap around me. The fireflies shimmered against the old oak trees at the edge of our property, their delicate glow weaving in and out of the twisted branches. I knew those trees well, had spent countless summer days climbing as high as I dared. The higher I went, the more of our land I could see, stretching out like it had no end.

"Mama?" I called out, my voice barely louder than a whisper, almost like I was afraid of disturbing the night. The cicadas were getting louder, their song filling the air as I searched for her familiar shape. My heart fluttered, a mix of excitement and worry tugging at me. What if she was mad I'd snuck out past bedtime? Or worse, what if she was upset because I hadn't finished my chores? Stella would tell on me for sure. I just knew it.

But there was no answer. No sign of her anywhere.

The shadows stretched long and dark across the field, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. "Where are you?" I called again, a little louder this time, but the night just swallowed up my words.

The cattle in the meadow turned their heads, their big eyes catching the moonlight and shining back at me like little pools of black water. They made everything feel quiet, like the world was holding it's breath, waiting. It was strange, how different everything felt at night. Like I'd stepped into a whole new place where things moved slower, where the rules were different.

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I tried to blink them away, but they kept coming faster and faster. I rubbed at my face with the back of my hand, sniffling as I looked around again. The fireflies kept floating around me, their soft lights flickering in the dark. One of them caught my eye. It wasn't like the others—its light wasn't steady. It flickered, dimmed, then brightened again, like it couldn't decide what to do. I stared at it, feeling my heart pound faster.

I wonder if it's lost too. The thought slipped into my mind, and I felt a little less alone, watching that tiny flicker of light in the dark, trying to find its way.

I kept going, trying to find my way as I pushed through the tall grass, heart pounding in my chest. She's out here somewhere, I told myself, my breaths coming quick and sharp. She has to be.

The grass started to thin as I reached the edge of the meadow, giving way to a thick patch of blackberry bushes. The leaves rustled softly in the night breeze, the air heavy with the scent of ripe berries. I was just about to give up and turn back when I saw her—a familiar silhouette at the far end of the bushes, kneeling in the tall grass. The fireflies danced around her, lighting up the darkness like a thousand tiny stars. In her hand, she held a small mason jar, the kind we used for jam, its glass catching the light and sending it flickering all around her.

"Mama!" I shouted, my voice full of relief and excitement. I darted toward her, the thorny branches scratching at my arms and legs, but I didn't care. I was too focused on getting to her, too wrapped up in the sight of her kneeling there. Of course she's here.

I could already see her smile, imagine the way her hands would be stained with the deep purple juice of the berries, the way she'd laugh as she plucked them from the vines. Those bushes had been a special gift for Mama, something Stella and I had planted with Daddy a few summers back. Mama spent hours in the kitchen every summer, turning those berries into pies and jams that filled the whole house with the smell of sweet, warm fruit.

"Lemon! What are you doing out so late?" Mama called out, her voice a mix of surprise and happiness. She held out her arms, and I felt a shiver run through me, wishing I'd thought to grab my jacket before sneaking out. It wasn't even May yet, and the nights still carried a chill.

As I got closer, the glow of the fireflies outlined her in soft light. Mama's white cotton dress swayed gently in the breeze, her hazel eyes shining as she beckoned me near. Strands of her curly brown hair framed her face, making her look even more beautiful in the moonlight.

"Come here, my sweet girl," she said, her voice as warm as the summer days I loved so much.

I rushed into her arms, burying my face in the familiar comfort of her lavender-scented sweater. Her embrace was warm and strong, and for that moment, everything felt right. The worries I had, the fear of being out here alone, melted away in her hug.

As she held me close, I felt her reach into the bushes, plucking a blackberry that was just ripe. She brought it to my lips, her smile soft and playful. I opened my mouth and let her place the berry on my tongue. The sweetness burst in my mouth, the juice running down my chin, sticky and warm.

It tasted like summer, like all the best parts of the season wrapped up in that single berry.

But then I saw something—a flicker of light behind her. A firefly, glowing faintly in the darkness. Without thinking, I slipped out of her embrace and chased after it, my hands stretching out to catch the little light.

The firefly danced just out of reach, teasing me as it floated through the air. I reached higher, my heart pounding with excitement, but just as I was about to grab it, the firefly disappeared into the night. My hands closed around nothing but cool air.

I stopped, frowning at the empty space where the firefly had been. It didn't seem fair. I was so close, and now it was gone, just like that.

"Where did it go?" I murmured softly, opening and closing my hands again to see if it would appear. Mama's soft chuckle reached my ears as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me close again. "Sometimes, my dear Lemon, the most beautiful things are the ones that don't last," she said, her voice like a gentle lullaby. "But that's what makes them so special."

I turned my face up to hers, still trying to understand. "Even fireflies?" I asked, my voice small.

Mama nodded, her smile tender and full of love. "Especially fireflies," she replied. "They remind us to cherish the moments we have."

I let her words sink in, but something still nagged at me, a question that had been scratching at the back of my mind. "Mama," I started, my voice quiet against her shoulder, "why do the fireflies seem dim tonight? It's like they're afraid to shine."

She laughed again, a sound like soft rain. "Oh, Lemon, you've always had such a curious mind," she said, pulling back just enough to look at me. Her hazel eyes, sparkling in the dim light, seemed to hold all the answers. "Sometimes, things happen that we can't explain. Sometimes the light fades, but it doesn't mean it's gone forever. It just means it's lost for a little while."

I thought about that, about the fireflies and their flickering light. "Do you think Daddy's lost too? Like the fireflies?" I asked, pulling back slightly to meet her gaze.

Mama's smile wavered just for a second, her eyes flickering with a sadness that I wasn't used to seeing. But before I could ask, she smoothed it over with that familiar comforting smile. "Oh, Lemon, your daddy's just fine," she said, her voice as gentle as a lullaby. "He's probably out working late on the ranch. You know how much he loves those cows."

I nodded, trying to swallow the doubt that was creeping up inside me. But I knew Daddy wasn't with the cows. He'd always said the ranch was his home, that he'd never get lost on his own land. But lately, it felt like he was spending more and more time away, leaving Mama, Stella, and me alone in that big, quiet farmhouse.

Mama would always tell us how special it was, just us girls together, like we were having some kind of secret club. But it didn't feel special—not when it happened every other night. It felt like something was missing, like the house was holding its breath waiting for Daddy to come back and make it whole again. The emptiness gnawed at me, a loneliness that I didn't have the words to explain.

I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of Mama's embrace and letting myself sink into it, just for a moment. In the quiet of the night, I whispered a prayer—not just for Daddy, but for all of us. For Mama, for Stella, for the fireflies flickering in the darkness. I prayed that wherever Daddy was, he'd find his way back to us, back to the light. Because without him, it felt like we were all just flickering, trying to stay bright in a world that was getting a little too dark.