Where I’m from, we call the glowing critters “lite-nin bugs.” They’re the flying insects that appear at night, you know — the ones you collect in glass jars when you’re small. These bugs were the symbol of youth when I was small; they represented wonder and innocence — everything I associated with the world and myself. They’re the flying critters that when you’re small, you think you’ve just witnessed magic they glow so bright. Though — after ten years “lite-nin bugs” mean so much more to me. Let me take you there… back a decade, when I was eleven years old.
November 2nd, 2013: Somewhere in Pennsylvania
The old folks grumble loud whispers in the backyard huddled around a growing fire. The flames burn red hazes in their eyes while they talk in circles, waving their hands when they speak, drawing in each breath with gossip. When the old folk gather, I think it looks like they feed the flames. The fire gets so big that the lite-nin bugs disappear, and I can’t see’ em no more. The fire gets so big every time the old folks talk, that I worry they’ll be eaten up by the flames. But most of all, I worry the lite-nin bugs will accidentally fly into the fire.
Sometimes when the folks talk, I catch what they’re saying like their words are lite-nin bugs headed toward the feeding flames. A lot of the time, they talk about Miss Lina. Miss Lina is 20, and she works at the corner store just down the road from where I live. She’s pretty, slender and has long dark hair. Miss Lina also has brown eyes — and I’ve seen them glow. I’ve seen her brown eyes glow and sometimes, if you look real hard — they flicker.
When I saw Miss Lina’s eyes glow, it was one of the hottest days in September. I was walking home from school and I thought I might pass out without some water. That’s when Miss Lina saw me through the window and came out to my rescue with a cold paper cup of water. She didn’t hesitate, she didn’t even say a word. Miss Lina silently handed me that cup with a soft smile — both of which I gladly accepted. It was then, right then, when she was turning to leave that the sun captured her eyes so nice, they glowed a golden brown just like how the lite-nin bugs glow. The sun captured her eyes so nice; it was like the sun was just picking up some of the glow he dropped. That glow just happened to fall right into Miss Lina’s eyes, and it flickered there inside her for just a moment. Then when I handed the cup back to her, I thanked Miss Lina hoping to see that flicker the sun had dropped. But just like that, the sun picked it up and the glow was gone.
I always hear what the folks say around the fire. When they talk, they call Miss Lina stupid. I hear them gossiping around the flames in sharp voices and quiet scoldings they offer the fire under their breath. Their arms and hands wave furiously in the air as they speak.
“That girl Lina, she got herself into that trouble all on her own. I don’t know why she don’t leave that son of a bitch.”
“Yea, he may be hittin’ her, but she’s the one who’s stayin, that’s on her.”
“That’s her only excuse, she’s so stupid she won’t leave that damn man. At this point it ain’t on him, she’s doin’ it to herself. She could easily get outta there.”
“I don’t know how people stay in relationships like that, how could you be that stupid? Whatever, it ain’t on us, we just gotta mind our own.”
“Did’ya hear what Miss Brandi said about Lina? I told her all that business about how I saw Lina all marked up the other day and Miss Brandi had the nerve to defend that girl! Talk about getting too offended by nothin.”
In the midst of the growing flames and the old folk talk, I spot a lite-nin bug in the corner of my eye. The glow intrigues me as I quietly creep towards her with my hands cupped in front of me. Walking barefoot in the wet grass I take my time to slowly warm up and inch closer to the glowin’ critter. Setting my right foot down methodically in front of me, my heel touches the coolness of the earth first, then the grass splits in between my toes as I reach closer and closer to catching the light. Then, quietly, but swiftly I clasp my hands around the lite-nin bug tight so she can’t escape. Her glow twinkles softly in between the cracks in my hands before dropping her into my glass jar. I screw on the lid and inspect my new critter as she glows every few seconds.
The old folks talk grows faint and shrivels up like ashes into the air as I walk farther and farther away. Then, reaching a quiet spot under the velvety black speckled white sky, I watch the lite-nin bug for the next few minutes. She climbs up the side and around the inside rim of the jar, she climbs on the underside of the lid until I flip over the jar so I can see her again. Realizing the lid is now the “bottom”, she climbs to the “top” along the side of the jar and circles the glass bottom. I flip the jar again and she repeats her attempts at an escape route. Eventually, the lite-nin bug gets so confused she doesn’t know which way is the opening, and which is the bottom and so she sits in the center of the jar glowing less frequently than before.
Worried that I’m hurting the lite-nin bug, I unscrew the lid slowly, set it on the pavement, and wait for her to climb up and fly away.
I wait.
And I wait.
And I wait.
But — she doesn’t move.
Panicked that I killed her, I turn the glass jar over into my palm and the lite-nin bug starts to crawl in my hand slowly and settles still on my knuckle. She stays there for ten minutes. She stays there until the old folks finish their fire. She stays there until my mother calls me for bed. She stays there until the fire dies out. She stays there until the sun quiets and falls asleep. Then, swiftly, another lite-nin bug lands gently on the back of my hand, silently it crawls to my knuckle next to the first, and without hesitation, they both fly away.
Bethany Tomes is an undergraduate student at Penn State, University Park. She’s majoring in Secondary Education, with minors in English and Social Justice in Education. She is from New Kensington, Pennsylvania, and she enjoys nature, reading, music, and art.