I’d forgotten what an amazing place outside can be. Well, it’s not so much forgotten, I guess. I can cast my mind back to the various summers I’ve spent in Scotland, or that last week I spent in Nice with my now ex-girlfriend, or any of the other places I’ve been and just utterly loved. I had, however, forgotten how amazing a place my own hometown can be.
Tonight, everyone has been leaving for the Jersey Shore for Senior Week. I’ve opted to stay behind because a. I hate the Jersey Shore, b. Senior week shall consist of getting plastered and high; the former I do not enjoy and the latter I have no intention of trying, c. I hate the Jersey Shore. If friends were going to Bermuda, or OBX, or somewhere, I would consider coming along and just putting up with their festivities. But it’s Jersey Shore or bust, and the Jersey Shore sucks (plus I’m not the biggest fan of beaches).
To alleviate my boredom, at around 10.30 I decided to crawl out my window into my front yard and just sort of walk around town until I got bored or tired. And like I said, I’d forgotten just how amazing my hometown can be. Hundreds, maybe millions, of fireflies everywhere. The largest clusters were gathered right up against the trees that line our property and our neighbor’s property. More fireflies than I can recall ever having seen in my life. It was sort of like a forest of Christmas trees, with clusters of Empty Child-style nanites floating around briefly. I really wish I had pictures, or video, or something to share with you, but none of the cameras I own could capture it – they were always pitch black.
And yet even as I revel in the memory of it, my mind can’t resist adding just that touch of jade to my glasses. This was – is – the sort of thing that used to set my mind racing. I remember three, maybe four years ago, I was mucking stalls at the barn in the middle of November, and there was a dying tree right beside the entrance to the barn, and just the look of it, the shape of it, set my imagination off. I came home and I wrote six chapters of a novel I would never finish; but I still wrote them.
Still, I’m glad I went outside. The simple beauty of that moment is one of the highlights of my year so far, if not the highlight. It gets even better when I think about what everyone else is doing. Right now, most of my friends have just gotten on the turnpike, or are about to pass right by my home to hop on the turnpike, and make the trek out to the home they’ve rented for the next seven to ten days. Those who aren’t on the road now are asleep and will be waking up in about two or three hours to get on the road. All to maximize the time they can spend in Jersey smoking up and chugging and…other things.
Me? I got to watch a million million fireflies turn my neighborhood into an outstanding sight.
Yeah, England played like crap and are in danger of not advancing. Yeah, the United States was disallowed a perfectly valid goal that would have won them their game. Yeah, I’m one of the few not going to the beach.
But I got to see the fucking fireflies.
Utterly, totally, made my day.
Made my week.