I would like to tell you the story of my very first encounter with fireflies:
Twilight had fallen on our first evening in the Midwest. We were standing outside of our apartment, far away from the city lights. As I looked out across the large yard, I noticed what looked like sparks from a fire lighting up throughout the grass. Drew looked at me and asked,
“Have you ever seen a firefly before?”
“No.” I replied, secretly hoping he might catch one for me.
With a twinkle in his eye, Drew began chasing after the fireflies in the yard. Hands outstretched, ready to catch these magnificent little bugs, he ran zigzagging through the grass until he was all the way on the other side of the yard. Finally, he caught one. Excitement filled my mind as he ran back towards me, the prize cupped safely in his hands.
“Are you ready for this?” he panted.
Breathless I nodded, anxious for the release. I could barely contain myself as I thought that I might catch a glimpse of this mysterious insect up close as it was set free.
In one fluid motion, Drew raised his hands up high, and then . . .
He threw it on the ground and squished it, right before my eyes. Horrified, I stared at the glowing guts by my feet.
“Isn’t that cool?” he asked.
“Um, I guess.” I said, still staring at the poor little critter. We watched until the glow faded into nothing, and then left the firefly on the pavement to be forgotten.