This summer is for catching fireflies. Every summer is different. Last summer, I spent every day the pool, until my finger tips were permanently wrinkled and the chlorine turned my blonde hair green. The summer before, I boycotted shoes. No sandals, no flats, no sneakers. I went barefoot or I didn’t go at all.
This summer, I want to catch fireflies. I want to run in the field behind my house with a net in one hand and a jar in the other. I want to fill a dozen jars with their light, for my entire bedroom to be illuminated with their glow.
It’s weird, maybe a little crazy. I haven’t caught a firefly since I was a kid. Everyone else I know is working, going to the beach, having bonfires in their backyards. Normal summer things.
But I keep the jar in my hand anyway. Because summer is meant for crazy.
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