We were tired after a long day.
We were all out of the house by 9 a.m., and The Poo had two hours of soccer. The Babyman got to know his third babysitter in as many weeks. We went to the mall, the bookstore and out to dinner.
The Poo was in bed when the doorbell rang, and I heard her scamper to the top of the stairs as I headed toward the front hall from my perch in the guest room.
I cast her a sideways glance, and she put her hands under her chin. “Mommy,” she pleaded. “I just want to say hello.”
At the door was our Schwann’s man, with his truck full of frozen chicken patties and ice cream bars. I planned to send him away without making a purchase, but when I opened the front door, The Poo at my heels, the sweet summer air hit me—and hypnotized me.
Our neighbors put in a flower bed today, mulch as fresh and red as a wound. The sun was at that perfect angle when the whole world looks beautiful: McMansions, ghetto streets, trailer parks and middle-class suburban tract houses all rendered equal by the gentle blue gloom.
Impulsively, I asked our delivery man for ice cream bars. Chocolate covered with caramel, did he have them?
He chatted with The Poo, telling her to go back to bed and get her rest. Over her damp curls, he winked at me and mouthed, “sorry to wake her.” I smiled in return.
I sent the girl back to her bed and paid for my treats, when something caught my eye. A yellow spot to my left. One blink, then two. I looked hard, and was rewarded: a firefly.
I started to close the door, when I suddenly yelled up the stairs:
“Kiddo, come down here again! I want to show you something.”
“Coming,” she said.
I took her hand and led her to the porch, both of us in our pajamas. Sit here, I said. Watch carefully, I said. What do you see?
I see it! I see it, Mama!
We sat, holding hands and in our bare feet, counting the glowing spots and laughing with wonder.
The chores and the work and the have-tos and the must-haves melted away as I sat with my first-born, on a rough concrete porch, basking in the simple magic of her childhood.




{ 18 comments… read them below or add one }
Mrs. Chicken, your writing makes me swoon.
Sounds like a beautiful evening. Did they have the ice cream you were looking for or did you settle for the strawberry shortcake kind?
Those kind of nights really are made of magic. Not only does it take some of the mundaneness (is that even a word?) of everyday life away, but it makes such a great memory that she will in turn pass on to her own children one day.
Lucky girl. She’ll remember that. Happy memories are so easy to make.
After eleventy-hundred days of rain, it’s nice to be reminded of exactly why we’re hoping to see the sun, again, soon, I hope.
I wish we had fireflies here. I did show T Junior a skinny wriggly worm the other day; picked it up and held it up to him like an offering. He thought about it. Watched it. He tried once to pick it up with his thumb and index finger, but then pulled his hand back to his chest like it had tried to bite him. I can’t wait for more moments like this…like your firefly. Happy summer!
Glad you got to enjoy the nighttime view like we did
Lovely, joyful post! The ice cream bars remind me of my childhood.
Oh I miss those, we don’t have them in California. I grew up in Chicago and it was a wonderful summer treat to go catch fireflys.
Aw, I got all teary.
The Chicken is still hypnotized by the fireflies. She & friends run up and down the front yards to collect them in the evening. AFter she is in bed I go outside and set them free & put a treat in the jar for her to get in the morning. I know she is 11.5 but she still loves it.
Less than 2 weeks xoxo!
Fireflies are so fun!
That is such a wonderful moment!
So glad you called her back down to see. THOSE are the moments that we and our kids will remember.
Oh I just swooned!
I just love moments like that! Summer can be so magical.
What a lucky girl. Well, both of you, really. I’ve never in my whole life seen a firefly. We don’t have them here in Holland and I’ve heard it’s quite a sight to see. I’m glad you called her down again.
When Dave and I were dating I always told him if only he were a Schwan’s man he’d be perfect.
This post made me grin.
It’s so easy to miss those moments as a busy parent. You noticed it and celebrated it…