The email read “Class of 2024 senior portraits…” and I’m done.
Flaming cartwheel out of the chat into the land of blissful denial, done.
Life lately seems to come in a blur, delivering an unexpected punch to the gut here and there. That small email that landed on my phone last week, really encapsulates it all right now. And suddenly, I was crying.
The fireflies are arriving, like they do every year. A seasonal marker of sorts in between the craziness of our schedules that always feels poignant to me. We’ve been consumed with that last full-on heave over the finish line for school before we can all enjoy one big sigh of summer-filled relief. I’m reminded of that first spring we finally moved here after waiting for so long. But this story begins in the summer before.
We were waiting for our old house to sell in a bad market, so we could uproot our family and start fresh, which is no small feat in itself. We have long-time friends already in Nashville, and while visiting we met for a picnic at Arrington. It’s a local vineyard, and at dusk, the fireflies arrived. It’s a favorite childhood memory of mine, chasing them through the grass at night to see how many I could collect in a jar. There’s just something so timelessly nostalgic about them.
Our youngest had never seen them before. Where we were located at the time, they sprayed our area every year consistently for mosquitos. So whether we wanted them to or not, it also took out whatever firefly population we might have had in our small Alabama yard. That night in the vineyard, they appeared and we were absolutely enchanted. Our youngest captured one so we placed it in a makeshift container for him to watch. When it was time to leave, we told him he had to let it go. He, just turning five at the time, cried a little.
We explained that it was for the best, so the firefly could be with all his friends. We then promised him that when we moved here, there would be limitless fireflies. Even though, at the time, we were starting to wonder if our move would ever happen, and if said fireflies would actually be available in our yard. Despite unknown firefly logistics, we were making a promise to ourselves just as much as we were to him. He agreed and we set the firefly free.
That following spring when we finally settled into our crazy renovation of a house, it had taken a lot to get here. Nearly a year with our old house on the market and with a lot of flaming hoops, so to speak. So for us to see them appear every night in electric droves, and twinkle every season since in our yard, always feels like a little bit of that remaining magic returning. An official reminder of that little promise we made that night.
I think of the three of them now, chasing fireflies at dusk in our yard each summer. All sticky with ice cream-smeared faces, breathless giggles and chlorine hair. They don’t really chase them anymore, because babies don’t keep. But those memories are priceless.
When you’re on the other side of parenthood at the beginning, with less sleep and constant diligence, even brushing teeth feels like a battle. It feels like this will last forever; that you have all the time in the world.
Only you wake up one morning and realize suddenly, you don’t.
Right now, we’re on the cusp of something sweet. That place in between the final week of school and the first week of summer. Like a good show worthy of binge watching, there’s always that silent space in between seasons. Likewise, work and life for us, is a little bit in between seasons with everything right now too. Nothing much to showcase in the overrated silliness that is social media, but a whole lot going on behind the scenes.
Just like everyone else, this imperfect life hasn’t always turned out exactly as we hoped or expected. But we remind ourselves that we’ve put our energy and time into the right places so that the next season is a really great one, in all the good ways that truly matter.
Our youngest is now taller than me. He’ll be fourteen next month. But he loves a good football-throwing session in the pool, and being a sweet friend in thoughtful ways. He still snuggles right up to my side while watching a family movie.
Our middle, fifteen, went to the mall with friends a few weekends ago, and texted me updates of purchases she was considering where I was left wondering what she would come home with: There was a tiny skirt from Aerie amongst other age-appropriately-themed, teenagery things. Instead, her friends gave up on shopping for clothes and she returned home with a Build-a-Bear.
I’ve never been happier to see a freaking Build-a-Bear.
Our oldest started his first real job for the summer. We’re looking at schools, taking SAT prep courses, and as of today, apparently scheduling his class of 2024 senior portraits. We have a senior, and it feels like we were just getting him ready for preschool. He still loves a good conversation over ice cream late at night, and watching him grow into the person he’s supposed to be is one of the greatest honors we’ve been given.
In the meantime, those dappled sparkles in the quiet yard at night have slowly filtered in, right in between the chaos of our lives. That little reminder to pause. If we’re not careful it’s slipping through our fingers. It’s going by way too fast.
I want to bottle these moments up if only for a moment, like those little fireflies.
Summer anthems with sunshine and smells from the barbecue with pool days and games. Laughing until our stomachs ache. Slower mornings and creeping days. Star-sprinkled nights and savored family moments. These are the reasons summer has always been our very favorite season.
It’s a pause; a season in between seasons, that really sweet spot.
Here’s to relishing.
Here’s to cherishing all the little, in between seasons of life. Celebrating the seemingly-mundane things in between the every day. Just like those fireflies, they’re the very best. Here’s to the in-between.
Emma Johnson says
It felt like I have traveled through time with you and lived each part of your life. Yes, it’s tough when you see changes in bigger thing then in smaller one, yet we know it’s life and it will go no. All the best to your kids for thier future and hope you have a good and healthy life.