Rest In Peace, Brightbutt

Firefly on a man's hand
(not our firefly) Photo by: Marty Gabel

My husband and I were just talking in the living room when a bright light suddenly flashed in the kitchen. Not stationary but moving in that moment of glow. Until recently, we would not have recognized it because it had been decades since we’d seen one. But they’re a regular visitor in the yard of our new house by the creek. Yes, a precious little firefly. It must have snuck in when I came in from the yard earlier.

We wanted to release it outdoors again but had never caught a firefly before. While it was sitting on the curtain, I tapped it into my coffee grounds collection jar so we could take it outside. Unfortunately, it wasn’t moving. And it moved no more.

Brightbutt, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill you. In memory, my grass out back is growing long so your old friends can frolic and remember you happily.

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