Welcome Summer

I saw my first lightning bug last night when I went to check my mailbox. For those of you who aren't from the South, a lightning bug is a firefly. I have very many happy memories of my brother and I, armed with bug boxes and bare feet, chasing lightning bugs at dusk in the backyard. It always involved a competition of who could catch the most, and if you know me at all, you know that I always won.

I like the way lightning bugs make your hands smell. It's a pungent, bittery odor, but it smells like summer. I miss summer nights at home, sitting on the deck with the family, eating Fla-Vor-Ice and Otter Pops, and then emitting coughs due to the generous concentration of high fructose corn syrup. We would literally sit there for hours and laugh, mostly at Mom, because we would normally gang up on her. My family has always shown love by making fun of the other members. This probably explains a lot about me.

By nightfall, we'd watch the deer emerge from the treeline at the top of the hill. They'd slowly and cautiously work their way down the hill, with one eye on our late golden retriever, Molly, and one eye on the damp grass that was their feast. Molly would roam around the yard, oblivious to the deer standing 15 feet away from her.

While it doesn't officially begin until June 21, summer began for me last night upon sight of that lighting bug.