River Stones and Fireflies

The night before I broke down our bed and put the mattress on the floor, as part of turning our hobbit hole into Emily’s rehab center until deep November, I woke up one night to see Emily sitting up and looking out the window. She was so rapt; she did not take notice when I sat up to look out the window with her. Fireflies! Lovely, magical, summer-sent fireflies. For the next several minutes, the two of us were pulled into the sea of the night, watching these countless floating stars in our backyard.

The mess of this calendar year dissolved that night, and both man and dog were transported to a magical realm. When one rose up and near to the screen, Emi tilted her head back to watch the glittering soul. Her mouth opened slightly, pink tongue just visible. Looking at her, I realized she was painting the scene I was feeling inside.

I mean, how often do we adults get to feel butterflies fluttering in our chests?

This morning, when Samwise and I moved through a corridor of blooming milkwee…