I went to Pennsylvania for the first time in my mid twenties. When I saw fireflies, it affected me in a way writing about it can only hint at. A sense of surprise and wonder that I haven’t experienced since childhood - maybe not even then. I haven’t experienced anything like it again, and I suspect I never will.
Intellectually, I knew they were ‘a real thing’, but that in no way prepared me for the reality.
Since then, it’s always been reassuring to look back and know that such wonder can still be felt by a grown adult.
We called them "lightning bugs" in rural Texas. We used to have ice cream after dark in the back yard with the parents and grandparents and neighbors, amidst a swarm of moving stars. It seems magical now, as though I'd dreamt it. But back then, it was just a typical Saturday night.
Intellectually, I knew they were ‘a real thing’, but that in no way prepared me for the reality.
Since then, it’s always been reassuring to look back and know that such wonder can still be felt by a grown adult.