Fireflies

Fireflies.  My yard, damp from the rain was filled with fireflies last night.

Dinner had been eaten and my oldest boys had put on their pajamas.  It was about 10 minutes before bedtime.

Hey!  Why don’t you guys go out and catch some fireflies.


Really?


Yes, really.  Go ahead.

…and off they went.  Feet barely grazing the tips of wet grass.  Open hands raised high to clasp a little light in the air.  Raindrops still falling all around them.  Cool air in and out of my back windows carrying the voices of two brothers calling to each other. 

They scrambled to find an empty orange juice container in our recycle bin and when I called them in, they carried that container up to their bedroom as a night light.

I don’t always love parenting.  I find it hard and frustrating.  I get irritated and grumpy.  It is a thankless job with no real benchmarks for success that you don’t create yourself.  It often leaves me feeling incompetent and unqualified.

At about 10 minutes before my children’s bedtime, I can provide lightening in a bottle and at about 10 minutes before I go to bed, I can release it.

That’s the kind of mother I am.

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