During my childhood, I saw at least ten thousand fireflies shimmering their amber lights in the darkness and never once longed to dissect a single one to discover the source of its magic. I’m older now, my youth behind me, and fireflies continue to fill me with the joy of childhood. I refuse to dissect their magic. We all need a miracle or two or three to cling to, and I will always cling to the miracle of fireflies on a summer’s night.
The truth had lacerated him to the bone, had punctured his heart, and had ripped through his soul. The truth had slain him and tended to his wounds. The truth had hated him and loved him. The truth had opened his eyes to his own faults.
To lose the simple years of your life is to lose your soul. Some say don’t look back, but if there is love and laughter behind you, look homeward from time to time. Draw strength from your mistakes, your accomplishments, your losses, your awkward years, your unanswered prayers. Draw strength from the magnificent landscape of your youth.
