A Monday night.

We got back to Holly House after a visit in Clio. Ada fell asleep in the car, Mark talked about his Dad. Louie was in a good mood and didn’t stop us from talking or make us play his music. As we pulled up, we spotted two wild turkeys in the yard and, as soon as Louie was free from his car seat, he chased after them, barefooted, and threw his hands up in confusion when they ran away.

Jeff hopped on the tractor, and then the lawnmower. I changed Ada’s diaper and put her in a sweet white nightgown that’s too long on her. I nursed her, hoping she’d fall back asleep while reading “The Diggers” with Louie while he sucked down a “whoa ha.” Really, we read it together, since he has a few lines on every page. Tonight, he also noticed the starfish for the first time, and therefore, so did I.

Ada wide awake, Louie wide awake, we went outside. Mark was grumbling about the weed whip, the kids and I headed for the pond. Louie jumped on the dock two feet at a time and squealed when a nearby frog took cover. He got his frog stick, proud to find it leaning against the big oak where he’s stashed it earlier, and we quickly found three big bullfrogs near the shore in their usual spots. Louie was gentle enough with the stick, and sent them jumping and swimming away one after another.

I took Ada to the swing, she started kicking in my arms with excitement once she knew what I had in mind. She is so light on the swing, I hardly have to push her. She’s much braver now and likes to go up high. I played a lazy peek a boo with her just popping my face beside her on the back of her swing and she gave me laugh after laugh.

Out of frogs, and ready to focus on the injustice of his sister receiving attention, Louie petitioned for a turn on the swing. I bought some time pretending to get bonked by Ada’s feet, which made them both happy for awhile, and then swapped them out. I tucked the hem of Ada’s nightie into the hole created by the broken snap along her back so she wouldn’t trip and got back to work pushing Louie.

I was worried about my knee, which I had injured during an aggressive swing session in this very spot about a month ago, and which is far from healed, but I was able to get him some good air without putting much weight on my left side. Louie showed me that he can pump, he must’ve been practicing with Jeff earlier. I felt a flash of gratitude that I had made this time to swing with him so his new skill only escaped my notice for a few hours. It was about this time, watching Ada wander the grassy hill in her Ebenezer Scrooge nightdress, looking far too tiny to be vertical, that I really wished I had my camera with me.

I scooped up Ada and we closed out the routine with a few spins on the swing, twisting the chains up more-more-more while Louie laughed with anticipation for the big unwind. “Hello” “bye bye” we said over and over as he blurred past.

Out of the swing, Louie spotted Jeff on the mower and wanted to help his Dad, he darted up the hill that we aspirationally call the “orchard.” His red shirt blinked in an out of my view between the trees lining the pond as I watched with worry to make sure Jeff saw him. He did.

I rang the old Zimmerman bell for Ada while we waited for Louie to come back. He did, and wanted a turn. He couldn’t quite get the sound out at first bit I stepped back so it wouldn’t hurt Ada’s ears, so I had only words to help him figure it out. I told him to grab the rope and squat, and it worked!

I had decided I wanted to stay up until the fireflies came out, and they hadn’t, so I asked Louie if he wanted to take a walk in the woods. I always take at least one “lap” when I’m in Holly and I hadn’t yet this trip, so I was glad when he said “yes.” We headed into the woods and Louie immediately noticed it was dark in there. “Under” he said, as we passed through the trees overhead. We looked out for sleepy dear and awake mosquitos and encountered neither. Louie hopped on the stumps and I let him pick which route he wanted to take. Facing the pond again, he needed to see about his frogs one more time, so Ada and I wandered over to a pretty white flowering tree I’ve never paid attention to before. The little petals fell into my hand as I tickled the branches and I threw up a handful for Ada. Louie wanted a turn, so I harvested some more confetti and he tossed in in the air gleefully.

Still no fireflies! They were out last night, so I knew it was just a matter of time. I explained to Louie what we were looking for, and showed him the sign for “light” and “bug,” holding back the temptation to teach it to him as he had signed it last year, with a finger up his nostril.

We headed toward the house where a ladder has been leaning against the roof for a month or two.  I told Louie he could climb six rungs of the ladder, which satisfied him because that’s his favorite number, and satisfied me because I don’t need him going any higher while I’m juggling a baby and a bad knee. We made Grandpa look up from his dysfunctional garden implement and give Louie a compliment, he obliged.

And then- a flash of light by the wall of pine trees! Here we go! Louie didn’t see them at first so, we walked closer and closer. “Firefly!” I said happily. “Whywhy!” he said happily. We followed them around, laughing and zigzagging each time a new flicker lit up in the periphery.

Three years ago, at the end of my pregnancy carrying Louie, Jeff and I spent night after night here watching the fireflies light up the yard, thinking about the son we were about to meet and wondering if tomorrow would be the day. What a sweet beautiful thing it is to be enjoying them together, tonight.

I caught a firefly and held it in my cupped hands for the kids to inspect. Louie wanted a turn, so I captured one for him, and it “kissed” Louie’s face as it headed straight up for the sky. It really was time for bed and I said so, but then I thought how this was Ada’s first time seeing fireflies, and shouldn’t she get to hold one too? So I snagged one for her and placed in on her nightie. It wiggled to her little bare knee and then she clawed at it with her tiny destructive hands and pinched its poor little body before I had a chance to intervene. It lit up more brilliantly than ever as it fell down between the blades of grass to die. I felt guilty for condemning it to death and stood up to go inside, just as Louie fell flat on his back onto the grass, overcome with sadness for the extinguished firefly. I funny response for a child who has always had a murderous instinct toward insects, but understandable, nonetheless. “Are you sad?” I asked him. “I’m so sorry, honey boy.” When he recovered, I scooped him up on my free hip and hobbled with my little ones back into the house to finally go to bed.

It still took ages to get them both down. Ada was nursing incessantly and Louie wanted to escape downstairs, then fell from his little bed not long after finally falling asleep. As I lay there, waiting for the cadence of their breathing to change, I remembered the intense regret I had felt the day after our wedding, thinking of how wonderful it was and how tragically stupid it was that we had no video to watch when we wanted to re-live it. My solution then was to write down all the specialness I could remember, and put to words what it was like. And so that’s what I decided to do on this ordinary extraordinary Monday night.

A long way of saying, I am so fortunate, and so happy.