Saturday evening Harrison and I decided to catch fireflies. We found a small mason jar in the kitchen and poked air holes in the top. I bent the tines on a fork pounding through the metal but we were in a hurry. We could see small sparks from our window. It was the magic hour. The fireflies were in abundance. There was no time to lose.
Once we had our gear assembled, we went to the front yard. Even though it was only 8pm, it was completely dark outside. The sky was still overcast after a full day of rain. The grass was damp under the trees and the air was cool. We stood still for a second, quietly surveying our lot. Our neighborhood was dark and hushed. Not a creature was stirring not even a. . . then we saw a flicker to our right and another out towards the street. Harrison bolted into the yard. I watched him as he hopped a few paces away from me, down our sloping yard and into the night. He stopped near the street. He paused. I saw another flicker between where he stood and my position at the edge of the lawn. He saw the light too and was off again, running now with his hands out in front of him. "I got one!" he yelled. I couldn't belive it. It seemed too quick but I walked down and held out the jar. He put his closed hands over the lid and then unclenched his little fists while pushing his palms inwards, towards the mouth of the jar. Quickly I slid the cover under his hands and when we both looked, we saw that we had made our first catch.
"What should we name him?" I asked.
"Robert," said Harrison, without missing a beat.
We looked again and Robert blinked once.
Posted by Red Chuck at June 19, 2006 02:52 PM