Of Shwarma and Fireflies

Cattails and sunset at Sheridan Lutheran Church.

Last night, I swam in a field of fireflies.  Twice, actually.  Once, behind Sheridan Lutheran Church, in a lovely swath of land that this church has set aside to. . . let it be.  How is that for an act of faith? Trusting that the land and all of its creatures have something to offer, something that is deep and moving, and maybe even holy?  For a moment, I thought about transferring my church membership, so that I could just keep walking along the path, running my fingers across the cattails and counting fireflies in the woods.

I was there with my friend Mary Anne and a couple dozen strangers of all ages, firefly-counting volunteers.  Don't tell Mary Anne,  but as I was driving home, I wasn't always quite sure of where I was.  Things looked different, unrecognizable, kind of disorienting, but not in a disturbing way.  At one point, I couldn't believe I was on Normal Boulevard, certain it was A Street or somewhere else altogether.  It could have been because I was actually awake after 9, and driving at night.  Or maybe it was the bioluminescent, lingering effects of the hours before, the residue of an evening spent in loveliness.

Later, in my sleep, I again was surrounded by the flickering, gentle glow of fireflies.  In my dream,  I felt light and swift, like a satellite humming through tiny, twinkling galaxies.

My fullness had started earlier in the day, though, when Allison came home and joined Mark and me on our bed, where we'd been eating up our books between catnaps.  Like my dream self, Allison seemed light and happy.  She stretched out between us, recounting her day at work and then slipping into a bit of a comedy routine, exchanging word play with Mark, her favorite sidekick in these situations.  I lay there, a happy audience of one.

She'd come home to have dinner with the family--a feast at Sultan's Kite that was, as always, delicious and fun.  Amid platefuls of shwarma and tziki, rice and hummus, this family I love so deeply chatted and laughed and smiled its way through our meal together.

I think I was up past 10:30 last night not to prove a point (that I CAN stay up past the sun!) but because my heart needed that much time to find space for all of the good things that filled it up. Atop my cool sheets, I'm pretty sure I was glowing a bit, like my firefly brethren, sending out happy signals to this universe that I was here and happy to be counted.