Sheils Writes

Me: “Mom, mom, I need a jar”.

Mom: (puts down dish towel) “ok, give me a sec” (not “what for?”)

Me:  “hurry, hurry…please!”…”hey, Dad, can you poke some holes in the lid?”…”quickly”!

Dad:  “ah, ok, ok” (puts down newspaper)

I’m probably 8 or 9 years old.  I dash out the back porch door of my childhood home, it’s a hot summer night, I put fresh cut grass in my jar, I fill it with lightning bugs (aka fireflies).  I’m barefoot.  I’m in pajamas.  I feel the dampness of the grass on my feet.  I’m happy.

A memory now that fills me with a longing for those days.  The backyard, the pool, the wooden chairs with damp towels thrown over them until the next day when you realized you forgot to bring them in.   The full house I grew up in, bustling with so much excitement.

Picture of me below, probably 16 or 17, sitting at the kitchen table.  The one where I laughed with my sisters, cried doing very hard Geometry homework, had birthday cakes with elementary school friends, signed my first real job medical insurance papers, selected my Community College classes on the big piece of paper you did that type of stuff on back then, learned about taxes and 1040EZ forms (ugh).  Kitchen tables are crazy places for memories.  The many meals, the conversations that would go for hours.   Big things happen at kitchen tables!

Curious what I was thinking here.  Something important maybe.  Like what record album should I buy at Caldor tomorrow with my library paycheck!  Wonder who snapped this pic.  I’m happy for whoever did.

Been thinking a lot lately about the house I grew up in.  I moved there in 1968 when I was 3.  Lived there until I got married in 1989.  I was 23.  Made many more memories there with my husband & kids.  Grateful for all of it.  Grateful for the kitchen table. The table may have changed, the conversations gotten sadder, but still I remember laughing there just this past January.  I’m lucky for that.

Next time I see a firefly, look out, I’ll be running into my new house and getting a jar.  I need to keep that 8 year old excitement in me.  Setting that jar briefly on my kitchen table (then releasing the firefly so it can continue on its journey and so can I).  The journey of life moves on, keep the firefly spark alive.  Laugh often.  Love lots.  Sit at your kitchen table.