The Mason Jar

The kitchen in the tiny Cotswold cottage was warm and cozy. Dinner was just finished, the stew turning cold in his small misshapen bowl. His mother began to clear the evening dishes. Gazing out the window, longingly, at the tiny yellow flickers of light that danced around the hills outside the cottage, Colin fidgeted in his chair.

"Is it time dear?" his mother asked. She stood at the sink, looking back at him with a slight smile.

He gazed at her with huge green eyes, speckled with amber, and slowly nodded his head.

"Go on with ya then!" she told him, as she went back to her task of cleaning up after supper. She suppressed a slight giggle.

Colin grabbed the old mason jar off the shelf and ran out of the cottage and into the warm summer evening. He glanced around the backyard, at the woods and out into the beautiful rolling hills of his town. How he loved it here, this special place that held his heart. Colin felt that it was created just for him. Just for his passion and his pastime — his favorite pastime — the fireflies.

Each night at dusk, they came out. Well, in late June and July at least. He could sit for hours and just watch them, their bright golden light turning on and off, on and off. Sometimes, he'd close his eyes really tight and open them back up again, quickly, to see if they were still there. They weren't always there. Some nights they'd only come out for an hour or so, other evenings they'd stay a bit longer. He knew they were signaling each other. But what were they saying?

Tonight, Colin walked a bit further, venturing to the edge of the thick forest that surrounded the cottage. Tonight felt different than the other times. Tonight there seemed to be a bit more magic in the air. He walked into the woods, glancing back at the cottage to see if his mother was watching. She wasn't.

Under the thick cover of the forest, Colin found an old, worn tree trunk and sat down. He was now completely surrounded by the woods. He didn't feel worried or scared, just excited. Clutching the mason jar to his chest, he looked inside and sighed. He had caught a snail in his mum's garden earlier. He had never fed them a snail before and he felt so bad for the little fella.

The fireflies were dancing all around him, almost unaware of his presence. One even landed on his shoulder for a quick bit. Colin liked to squint his eyes shut slightly before he looked out at them once more, because their light flickered less and became more a wash of golden color throughout the dusk.

He decided it was time.

Uncapping the lid on the old jar, Colin set it down on the fern covered floor of the woods and sat back down.

The waiting was the hardest part.

xo
N