Dance of the Fireflies

rising up to the stars

A cloud of dust and barking dogs followed the beige mini-van up the short drive toward the old house.

Sharon turned to her husband and said, “Look, John, the yard is full of fireflies.”

“I see them. It’s almost as if they knew we were coming all the way here from California and put on a special show for us. “

Sharon said to her elderly father, Reese, in the back seat, “Dad, just look at all the fireflies!”

“Oh, yes, I see them! We caught some and put them in a fruit jar last night, but mom made us turn them loose before we went to bed.”

“Now, dad, you know that’s just an old memory. You haven’t caught fireflies and put them in a jar for 60 years.”

The old man smiled, consumed by the sights, smells and sounds of his youth. There before him was the house he’d grown up in, the oak tree he used to climb, and the woods where he and his friends had gone on so many adventures. Clicking crickets and oxygen-rich country air energized and refreshed the octogenarian’s long-dulled senses.

“Y’all get out and come on in here!” came a friendly voice from the porch. “How was the drive?”

“Very, very long, Brad,” said Sharon to her brother as she got out and gave him a hug.

“It’s good to see you again, John,” said Brad, shaking his brother-in-law’s hand.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

John opened the rear door of the van and helped the old man out. “Watch your step, now.”

Brad hugged his frail father and helped him up the steps. “I think the ol’ house is still about like it was when you lived here, dad.”

The old man looked about and said, “I believe you painted it, didn’t you?”

“Well, dad,  I did. Quite a few times, actually.”

Soon the family sat around a big dining table where they drank iced tea, ate homemade vegetable-beef soup with cornbread muffins and talked about all the latest news. The eldest of them all tried his best to listen and respond to  the questions directed his way, but was very tired, and kept nodding off.

Sharon said, “Brad, I think dad is worn out from the trip. Is there a bed ready for him upstairs?”

"There sure is.” he told her.

Sharon helped her father up the stairs to a familiar old bedroom, gave him his medications, and helped him into bed. The low rumble of voices downstairs didn’t disturb him in the least, and he felt good to be back in the bedroom he’d known so well as a child. Decades melted away, and he floated off into a dreamland of youthful memories. He thought of how the next day was the fourth of July, and there’d be firecrackers.

***

“Dang, Reese, where’d you get ‘em?” asked Billy.

“I found a nickel by the mailbox and bought ‘em in town yesterday!”

“Put one in that tin can!”

Bang!

Billy squealed, “Ahheee!" and cried, "Just look at that! It blowed that can up and rolled it out like a pie crust! Pop another one, Reese!”

“Okay, I’ll put one in that knothole, right over on the sweet gum tree,” mumbled the old man as he lay in bed, smiling.

***

The smell of coffee brewing drifted upstairs and found Reese’s nose. Rising up, he put his khaki pants and brown slippers on and went downstairs. Birds sang and chirped outside the open dining room window and a warm rising sun flooded the space with brilliant yellow light. Silent as a ghost, the old man entered and sat down at the large wooden table.

Sharon quickly served her father a cup of coffee and asked, “How did you sleep last night, Dad? Did we keep you up with our loud talking?”

“No, sweetheart.  I slept better than I think I’ve slept in years. This Arkansas air is making me feel young again.”

“Well, don’t get too young and frisky on us. I don’t want you trying to wander off again. You won’t do that, now, will you?”

Reese smiled slightly and replied, “Oh, I don’t reckon I need to go anywhere.”

“Be sure you don’t. Are you ready for some real country eggs and homemade sausage?”

 “Oh, yes,” he answered, so Sharon made him a fantastic country breakfast that tasted like his mother had made it.

***

“You’d better leave some of them biscuits for your father, young man!”

“But me and Billy’s goin’ fishin’ and we won’t get nothin’ to eat all danged day!”

“Oh, alright, then. Take that leftover cornbread and a jug of well water. I don’t want y’all havin’ to drink out of that muddy creek.”

“Yes ma’am.”

***

“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m your mom, dad--I’m your daughter." said Sharon. Looking at his cup, she added, "Why, you don’t need a refill. Your cup is still nearly full!”

After breakfast, Reese sat on the porch swing and enjoyed the beautiful summer morning. Everything he saw--every familiar rock,  tree, and hill sticking up in the distance made him smile. Cars soon began arriving in the yard and many grandchildren and great-grandchildren  poured out. Most spoke and shook his frail hand or kissed his cheek, while others passed by, seemingly oblivious to him entirely. There were a few whose names he knew, and even remembered how old they were. Whether his eroding memory could place them or not, he loved them very much. His day was near its end, but theirs was just beginning.

After a huge lunch at a crowded, noisy table, Reese returned to the porch swing and continued his happy reminiscing. Brad stuck his head around the corner and said, “It’s getting hot out here on the porch, Dad. Come around back where it’s shady. We’re all eating watermelon--don’t you want some?”

Reese loved watermelon, so he lifted his skinny frame off the swing and stood up. Feeling suddenly light-headed, he grabbed a porch beam and steadied himself. Confused, he continued walking toward the sound of voices.

***

“C’mon Reese--over here!” cried Billy. “Everybody’s waiting for us at the swimmin’ hole!”

“I’m comin’--wait up!”replied Reese, and he followed Billy through the woods.

The sound of voices and splashing water could be heard just ahead. The swimming hole was right there. All Reese had to do was climb down the steep bank. It would be no problem for a young, agile boy.

Someone gently kissed his forehead and said, “Honey, wake up. You’re sleeping.”

Rising up from his crumpled position beside the stream, Reese looked at the one who'd kissed him and cried, “Jenny! I thought you were….”

“No, honey, I’ve never left your side.”

“B-but, there was a funeral.”

“Oh, that? Cancer can’t keep us apart, my darling. Look--the fireflies are coming out.”

Reese and his wife sat beside the stream with their bare feet resting in the cool water. Holding each other close, they watched the fireflies dance and rise up through the trees until they mingled with the heavens above.

Author's Note

One of my old ones.

Reviews

[Marie]

Tears fall, Sam! Such a v-e-r-y beautiful story with a v-e-r-y beautiful ending, and my tears fall because though Reese and Jenny are reunited again, together, never to be separated again. Poignant too, hand on heart, because Alzheimer's or Dementia stole Reese's golden years and in a separate twist happy for him as he returned to the years of his childhood and his little friends. A captivating, gripping, warm, loving, tender write superbly penned, dear Sam. Gratitude for sharing it. I simply loved reading it! WONDROUS write, my dear friend...

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you so much. I was inspired to write it after hearing on the news about an old fellow who wandered off and met a sad end. I thought that perhaps his story shouldn't be as sad as it appeared, and that it was really just a short walk to the door of paradise.

[Marie]

You captured all of that superbly within the write, Sam. I actually thought it was a true story that you had added a little to! Your poetic pen is powerful! No doubt about that, dear Sam...

[JessyJacob]

I think people are taking revenge on people how mych deep people love someone that much deep they sacrifice for that one person.
When someone is so much exploiting someone it does she is taking revenge making that person to suffer.

People when they understand thiz its too late for them to born again because they get destroyed

Jessy jacob
With love.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you. I'm most appreciative.

[Vivian Fisk]

I found myself easily transported back and forth, seamlessly, first between the present and the memory, and it was joy to be in both. Then the last reality, with him and Jenny at the swimming hole, another seamless transition, was the most joyous of all, and not just for Reese, but for all of us who know that it really will be like this. The flow of this story is very, very artful, very accomplished. This is beautiful, this is flawless. An amusing thought just occurred to me: the asterisks you used to separate the times are actually the fireflies lighting the way....

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you. For eight years, this story has been posted here, and you're the first to make that observation. It's nothing I intended, of course, but I'm a bit bowled over.

[Carol Cashes]

Damn, Sam, you know I ain't a crier, but my eyes had dust in 'em when all the family started showin' up. This is a beautifully sweet story and I wish that all who suffer Alzheimer's could end their stories/lives in the places they do remember. I gotta go, the dust in here is not to be believed!

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you. Always, I wish death was gentle.

[LKBillips]

Beautiful sentiment. Really touching and thoughtfully written.

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you so much.

[barleygirl]

Even tho I really love your treatment of the topic of alzheimers here, there's something else sparkling even more brightly in this story -- your vivid descriptions of the natural surroundings! I felt like I was in heaven! Reading along, it felt like a motion picture, so visual are all your observations! I really enjoyed this one! (((HUGS)))

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you. Visually, the setting was very clear in my mind.

[barleygirl]

Had to re-read this one . . . it's so gracefully beautiful, the way you honor the memories & the mind mix-ups. I get the idea that the old guy prefers living in his long-ago memories rather than putting up with his slightly condescending present-day kin! *smile*

[Samuel Dickens]

Thanks again. It may be a natural thing for many of us oldlings to live in our memories of youth.

[Woody]

I'm out of novel words of praise, Sam. you know I hate to repeat myself. so I'll just say one word. Sublime!

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you, Woody. To the living, death can look so horrible, so I wanted to show how it might not be.

[MelissaAndres]

Oh, Sam! This was so good! I have had some Alzheimer's in my family and it is sad but when there are moments of lucidity it can be quite wonderful. I have written a short story (nothing nearly this good!) titled, The Rug, that deals with this issue a bit. And, with the fireflies, I have written a short story titled, 'First Light Festival'. It is more of a children's story but I think it's still pretty okay. You are awesome with how you portray your characters and make everything seem so real!

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you. I was inspired to write this after seeing a sad story on the local news about an old fellow who wandered off during a family outing. I'll look at your writing that you mention.

[MelissaAndres]

It's kind of weird (in a sad way). A lady at our church, her aunt is missing. The aunt is in her 80s and just disappeared last Sunday. She and her family have been posting all over the internet about it. Just 10 minutes ago she posted that someone saw her miles and miles from her home. They are really trying to track her down. I hope they find her soon and that she will be found safe and sound.

[TheWordWanderer]

The concept you played with here is a tragic one that and I think you presented his conflicting, eroded mind well by constantly switching between memory and present. This allows the reader to look into the disillusioned state that Reese's mind is in. the fireflies created some magical imagery to. I think perhaps description was a bit scarce at points, and I feel that if a bit more detail was added then some beautiful scenes could be created. Please review my story, called "Each Man's Prison" because it plays with a very similar issue that you have built this story around. Memories are at its heart.

[M. Black]

So beautiful and emotional, i couldn't stop reading

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you so much. I'm most appreciative.