Lightning Bugs

When I was little, growing up in Canton, Ohio, we would go out in the yard after dark and catch lightning bugs. I thought we were lucky to have so many there. Now, I live in a house overlooking a wetland near Akron. From my back deck, at about 10:00pm, the wetland and nearby woods turn into a panorama of glitter. Thousands of lightning bug sparkles per minute. Complete awe at the sight. I never knew there could be so many. 

5/9/12
“My little buttercup...has the sweetest smiiiiiiiiile...” was the song was running itself through Kevin’s brain all day.  The sun was out, he was moseying down the shore, gulls were chirping and diving, the water playfully splashing against the rocks as the waves glided in.  He had just bought a bag of popcorn from the little hut on the beach, which he now munched on as he walked.  His fingers were getting greasy from the oily butter.  At the same moment, the sun was beating down on Ariel, whose feet hurt from the rocky shore she was walking across, barefoot.  The sickening stench of hot buttered popcorn was assailing her has she passed some humming, smiling moron.  The squawking birds made a mess of the rocks and threatened to splatter her with guano.  The water relentlessly beat on the shore.  Futile.  The rocks would never yield to the water...at least not for another million years.

5/4/12
Three months on an oil rig was enough for Timothy.  He always felt sea sick the first couple days after getting back on land.  His daughter had called him up three days ago and told him she was getting married...in three days.  He called base and had them send a helicopter to pick him up.  Now, waiting nervously in his hotel room, sitting on the bed in his rented tux, he was starting to get a bit of acid reflux.  He brushed some crumbs off the powder blue pants, inspected the frilly front of his white button-up, made sure they were fluffed up just like the sales associate showed him.  His matching powder blue top hat rested beside him on the bed.  He wanted to make sure he blended in right, didn’t embarrass his daughter on her special day.  She was always telling him that he embarrassed her in front of her friends.  So he had rented himself the snazziest tux in the store, determined to do her proud.

5/2/12
Gary?  Come down here, son.  Yer mom and me need to talk to ya.  Yer mom and me we been talkin bout how good ya done this year.  We’re real proud a ya.  We wancha ta know that we seen how hard ya worked, how much time ya put in.  We’re proud a ya helpin us out at the store, stickin it out an all.  You stayed up late an got up early.  An even though you aint had the advanages that yer friends got, you stuck with yer studies an you done good.  Real good.  So I want ya go out to the driveway an see what yer mom and me got for ya. Yer all grown up now, and we figured it’s about time for you to have one a yer own, seein how yer goin sa far away in the fall.  We love ya, son.  

4/27/12
Dan shut the refrigerator door and, for the hundredth time, the picture magnet fell off.  It struck the toe of his shoe just right to send it skittering under the refrigerator.  He kneeled down and felt under the front edge of frig for the magnet, but only swept up lint.  His wife kept a magnetic flashlight stuck to the side of the fridge, which he now grabbed and turned on.  Kneeling again, with his cheek smooshed to the linoleum floor, he squinted with his left eye under the frig, scanning back and forth with the flashlight beam.  The magnet had slid all the way to the back side of the fridge, just in front of the wall.  Dan’s wife didn’t keep any coat hangers convenient magneted to the side of the fridge, so scanning around the kitchen and dining room for something long and skinny, he found his wife’s red umbrella in the stand by the closet.  He grabbed that and headed back to the fridge.  It was a tight fit, but managed to wedge the umbrella under the fridge.  Alas, it was one of those dainty little umbrellas.  What he needed was something closer to the length of a golf umbrella.  He yanked the umbrella back, but it was caught.  The ends of the spines that stretch the fabric open when deployed had caught the underside of the front of the fridge like a fishhook.

4/25/12
Sigh.  It’s definitely a shoe-shopping day.  I’m going cross-eyed reading all these damn affidavits.  The attorneys are all being whiny little bitches.  The bailiff is out sick and his sub is an idiot.  Lunch sucked.  I spilled my coffee all over my credenza.  Sigh.  Why can’t this day just be over?  Maybe something red with straps.  Macy’s had those cute little black heels.  Maybe some new tennies.  The cat has probably puked all over the new couch by now, or missed the litter box again.  Maybe I should start smoking.  I could probably score some weed off one of the defendants.

4/25/12
The backhoe groaned and clanked and scraped as its bucket plunged into the earth, clearing out a neat rectangular space for the funeral that was to happen later that afternoon.  The gravedigger that was operating it was soaked through.  His yellow slicker and wellies had stopped being helpful about an hour ago as the rain had finally crept down his collar and through his jeans and into the tops of his boots.  He made a squishing noise every time he moved his arms or pushed a pedal.  He was a walking swimming pool.  Mary was making applesauce in the church kitchen.  It would be warm and fragrant as he sat down to sample it.  Just one more grave to dig first.