[Caption: Various pictures on the Moore Family Farm with Grandparents and their Grandchildren, etc.]

I suppose I’ve always liked writing to some extent, and now find it to be somewhat therapeutic to express myself through this particular art form.  I also happen to have a significant love for music and pictures, but more to come in an upcoming blog post on the importance of photographs soon.

Lately, those who I’ve loved and lost have been on my mind.  I figured it might be time to pull out a piece that I wrote when I had just finished my first year of college and had come home for a bit before taking off for some nerdly activity for the summer.  I wrote this piece, “Lightning Bugs”, after visiting with my paternal Grandfather, the subject of one of my previous blog posts; he remains one of my greatest influences.  As I read this 25 years after I wrote it, I laugh at how dramatic I am.  However, much of the sentiment is the same.  Unfortunately, the fate of those mentioned is not.  My Grandfather has since passed away.  And my cousin Kevin, born the same year as I, has been missed for almost 20 years.  In fact, this story was printed and placed in his funeral program, and I had planned to read it, but was not in an emotional state to do so. Instead, my father read it for me.  I remember that his voice broke when he read about my grandmother, his mother, being in Heaven.  And now, ironically, he is there with her.  So I am embedding this story within this post in tribute to all those mentioned who my family has loved and lost:

“Lightning Bugs”

by Gina M. Moore

written: Thursday, 5/12/94

         As I was leaving the other night, Grandfather commented on the lightning bugs dotting the dark black skies.  I looked on and smiled, slightly in recognition, slightly in awe.  Usually I would have said “goodbye” and carelessly driven away, but this night was so different.  I walked out to the car and before I sank in, I stopped.  Something about that night made me take a slow, deliberate gaze around the farmland surrounding me.

         Suddenly I could remember a time not too long ago. A time when my cousins and I could not wait for this season…Summer!  Climbing trees, picking mulberries, riding bicycles, catching lightning bugs.  It was a happy time; ironically, it brought such sadness now.  It aroused a heart-wrenching yearning, and I knew it was for nothing but yesteryear.

         I had known for a while that I’d always have those memories.  The memory of Kevin doing “dangerous stunts” on an old tree rope.  The many times Chris would ‘pop wheelies’ on his green BMX bike.  Tiffani jumping off of old, rickety benches.  The first time Vincent reached the top of the old Magnolia tree.  My scoring a home-run in our many kickball games.  And there were so many more.  The sweet taste of honeysuckle, longing to play with our older cousins, our grandmother’s fork-mashed peanut butter cookies, helping Grandfather plant corn.

         Something significant happened on that night.  For the first time in my life, the memories came flooding back and I acknowledged the fact that I can never go back to that time again.  I can reminisce and try to resurrect it, but that time is gone forever.  Though it was only a decade ago, it will never be again.

         Now, I’d be lucky to see all of my cousins together once in a year.  And if we were reunited, playing outside would not be on our priority list.  Climbing trees, swinging from ropes, and riding BMXs have been replaced by sports clubs and track practices for the state championship.  Our grandmother is baking cookies in Heaven and Grandfather doesn’t plant much of anything besides his bottom anymore.

         Though nostalgia does bring joy, it brings disappointment, also.  When I reminisce, I am reminded of a quote by one of my classmates in our high school senior yearbook: “I always knew that when I looked back on my tears, there would be laughter, but I never knew that when I looked back on my laughter, there would be tears.”

         Back then, we had little competitions to see which one of us could catch the most lightning bugs in a jar.  I never could catch as many as Kevin or Chris, a reality that almost always upset me.  I look back and laugh at those times.  But then again, I would do just about anything to have them tease me about my three little lightning bugs one more time.

I learned something about lightning bugs today, because now I am responsible for helping to shape the mind and thinking of a little person who depends on me, so I occasionally make myself research a little bit more than my pre-motherly self might have done – lol.  Lightning bugs, a.k.a. fireflies, live for 1-2 years from egg to adult.  However, they only put on their amazing light show for 2 months.  That’s it!   It doesn’t even last as long as the summer break we used to have in which we would compete in catching them! How remarkable it is to me that these little creatures who live for just a blip of time have had such an impression on memories of my childhood. More importantly, these bugs just do what they do, presumably without worrying about the fact that they are only going to be here for a tiny bit of time.

This  reminds me that time stands still for nobody and for nothing.  It inspires me to be grateful for these memories, to enjoy life each and every day, to not only tell people you are thankful for them, but to show them you love them with your actions. Today, I’m grateful that resurrecting this story has not only given me the chance to remember my loved ones who’ve transitioned, but it has also taught me to be more like the lightning bug.  From now on, I’m going to try just a little bit harder every day to not worry about when my light is going to be snuffed out; I’m going to focus more on showing up and dazzling the skies with all I’ve got.