I wanted to be the one to capture the little bugs for my daughter, but I know my level of fatigue is too great to risk it. It will likely be all I can muster just to hold my daughter out in the yard as the others do the catching.
He nods. “Of course, baby. Just let me know if you get too tired.” Gently, Nate lowers me until my feet touch the pavers then reluctantly releases me, his fingers lingering as though each digit knows the opportunity for moments like this is coming to an end.
With a smile that I feel light me up from the inside out, I approach my mother and daughter. Grace is awake and sucking on her pacifier. When I lean over her and grin, Grace smiles and coos as though she knows that her momma is close and she can feel the laser beam of love coming at her.
I hope that’s the case. I wish that I could bottle my love and leave it for my daughter so that she’d be able to take it out and let it warm her whenever she’s feeling cold or blue. Since that’s out of the question, though, I pray that the videos will suffice.
“Hey there, beautiful,” I whisper as I take my child from my own mother’s arms. Momma attempts a smile, but it looks more like a rickety grimace. I shift Grace to one side and press my lips to my mother’s cheek. “Thank you for taking care of her today.”
Momma makes no response, and I understand why. What is there to say? Nothing that hasn’t already been said.
Turning and crossing back to my husband, the trio of adults steps out into the cool grass and walks toward the biggest cluster of light. I can’t stop the giggle that bubbles up as the grass tickles my feet. It’s as though I can feel each individual blade as it drags across my skin. My every nerve and sense seems hyperalert, and I’m committing it all to memory, a memory that will soon burn out like the glow of these lightning bugs.
Tonight, I know I will not only chase the lightning bugs, but I will do as my father did, and I will follow them as well. On to where they never stop shining.
On to heaven.
“Get that one,” I say to Nate, tipping my chin at a lightning bug that’s close enough and low enough for him to reach. He stretches out one long arm and taps the bug, which then lights on his finger. Nate holds it out to Grace and me, the slow, steady wink of light almost hypnotic in the night.
“Look, Gracie!” I tilt my daughter toward her father and then look back at Nissa, who isn’t far away, filming us. I smile at my friend through the lens. Nissa waves, and I see a tear slide down her cheek to pause on her trembling upper lip.
“Say hi to Nissa, Grace. She’ll help you with all your clothes and makeup and jewelry. All the fun, girly stuff.” I take my daughter’s tiny, chubby hand and wave it at the camera. A lightning bug appears between us as if by magic, its belly flashing yellow in the dark. “Oh! Oh! Get this one, Momma!”
Obediently, my mom grabs the little bug and places it in the palm of her opposite hand then holds it up for my inspection.
“Perfect,” I declare, a blend of overwhelming happiness and pure agony burning the backs of my eyes.
I watch as my mother places the tiny insect into the jar Nate holds then he closes the lid quickly so that none can escape. Pointing out which ones for my husband and mother to catch, I watch the jar fill until the glass appears to be a sparkling beacon of sun in an otherwise sunless sky.
When the jar is becoming too full to contain the insects as they add new ones, I walk to the last low-flying lightning bug I can see, and I let it settle on the tip of my finger. I hold it to my little girl’s face and murmur, “Don’t go to bed with dirty feet or an empty jar. Say your prayers every night, and never stop chasing the lightning bugs. Never stop. I love you, Grace. Always.”
I pull my daughter in close and kiss her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, the tip of her perfect little nose. I inhale, smiling at the way the sweet baby scent makes even the fresh night air smell better. I know that if it were possible to carry the memory of aromas with me to heaven, I’d take this one and Nate’s. They’re the two best scents in the world.
Just as my knees begin to feel weak and strangely numb, I feel the big hands of my husband cup my shoulders from behind. So perceptive. So caring.
“How about we take these inside with our little one?” He bends to brush his lips over the shell of my ear and chills break out, pebbling the flesh of my arms and legs. I know there’s one more thing I want from this night—to watch my child fall asleep in the glow of the lightning bugs.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” I let Nate turn me back toward the house. I glance at my mother who’s standing just behind me with her arms wrapped around her body. I wonder if she’s cold or if she knows, too. “You’re staying, aren’t you, Momma? For a little while longer?”
My mother nods in that closed-off way that she has. I can’t expect my mom to be one hundred percent the person she once was; I’m just happy that I get to see this much of the woman who raised me.
“We’ll put Grace to bed and then be back out. Why don’t you and Nissa wait in the living room?”