Lightning Storms and Fireflies

I will always think California is the center of the universe. But...there are some amazing things that a Cali Girl would never experience if she stayed in paradise.

Everyone thought I was crazy when I told them we were moving to Oklahoma, like I was traveling to the armpit of the country. Okay, so they were right, but the time had come to venture out of the Garden of Eden and into the lone and dreary world.

When we moved to Norman, OK, I was shocked and disgusted by the humidity. I didn't understand when the weatherman said it was "bone dry" and at church they prayed for "moisture." I didn't know that other parts of the country expected rain during the summer months. All I knew was that the air felt like it was so saturated that it would surely wring itself out. I got wet just walking outside. It was unbearable.

Then one night, it started to rain, although the temperature barely seemed to drop. No, not just rain. It was a deluge. For a girl who came from a place where the average annual rainfall was less than 12 inches, I was amazed to see such a torrential downpour. It reminded me of El Nino of 1997 when it had felt like California would wash into the ocean. Furthermore, there was thunder and lightning! On rare occasions, I'd seen lightning off in the distance in the mountains growing up. But I couldn't remember hearing such ominous growls and deafening explosions. It was so loud and so frequent, I kept thinking about the Hayley Mills movie "In Search of the Castaways" where they were perched in a tree above a flood and they counted the seconds between cracks of thunder. I thought the lightning just might strike our apartment! The windows rattled, the walls vibrated, and the power failed. I stood on the porch, tense with awe, watching streaks of lightning cut through the sky, splitting the world into pieces like it was ushering in the apocalypse. And then the rain suddenly stopped and the thunder rumbled and grumbled like a child throwing a tantrum reluctantly petering out.

It was strange how such a tumultuous stormy night could be followed by calmness and serenity the very next evening. If I'd thought it was unbearably humid before, the next day was like Dante's steamy inferno. But I beheld a sweet surprise. I looked out the window and saw in the darkness a little winking light. One tiny yellow twinkle for just a second moved enough to make an itty bitty streak, and then it blinked out. Then it came back, teasing a few feet farther, before it vanished again. It was like a fairy playing peak-a-boo. I ran outside, giddy as a child, trying to follow wherever it appeared. But by the time I'd put on my shoes and flung open the door, it had been snuffed out entirely. I was so disappointed, like I'd missed a chance of a lifetime.

7 years later, we moved to San Antonio during a particularly rainy summer. Our new house had a jungle for a backyard. Our neighbors' trees were practically falling over the fences and touching the ground. The weeds were so high it was no wonder the neighborhood cats would hunt rats on our property. Where there were no weeds, the topsoil was being washed away as a river would run through our yard. Our little marsh was the perfect breeding ground for mosquitoes, but it also attracted the little fairies I thought I'd never see again: fireflies!

There was more than one this time, and when I went outside, they did not darken their sparkle. I had no idea how to catch them, and all our things were still packed in boxes. But I danced around, chasing after them, little ethereal luminescent creatures flickering in and out. They didn't stay long. Maybe I made too much noise in my frolicking that I scared the little pixies away. That was 5 years ago, and I have not seen them since. My yard is no longer a wild bog, nor have we had such heavy rain, but I would love to welcome back those little critters.

Maybe thunderstorms and fireflies are the housewarming gifts nature gives me for saying goodbye to my eternal sunshine back home. I wonder if I ever have to move again, will the rains bring forth a flurry of fireflies to greet me?