To Catch a Firefly

by Emmy Sanders

I want to give him what he needs, want to be what he needs, what he wants, what he craves with every fiber of his being because he’s that for me. He’s not just a crush. He never was.

Lucky wasn’t mine to covet, mine to have. And yet here he is. Somehow, mine, by his own choosing. Mine to hold and treasure and cherish. Mine to love freely.

With the moon lending its soft glow through the window, Lucky falls asleep. And I learn what it is to cradle a firefly in my palms.

I won’t ever love another the way I love Ellis, and I don’t want to. He’s it. He’s always been it. And for the first time since we’ve known one another, I know, as I look into his brown eyes, that whatever piece of me is tethered to Ellis has a counterpoint. An equal pull.

Maybe, when it comes down to it, love is in the act of living. It’s choosing—breathing—that person every single day. Me and you.

In my most vivid waking dreams, I see everything he’ll give me. A life with him, in whatever form that might take. Years of loving him because I know I’ll do that no matter what. I see snippets of days just like this one, where we hike or share meals or simply enjoy one another’s company. I see him. Always him.

“Sometimes, I think back, and it’s like…why weren’t we doing this the whole time? At least, once we were old enough,” he adds quickly. I nod again, knowing what he meant. “But then, I think about what we did have, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m so glad you’re my best friend, El. Even if it took us a few extra trips to get to where we are now, I’m so glad it was you. Is you. Will be you.”

Adventure can call. Time can, too. But neither will take Lucky from me. He’s already written himself into my heart.

His lips taste like home. And if this is what he wants, what he truly wants and not what he feels is necessary, then I’ll make sure he’s happy here. I’ll give him a home so warm and inviting he won’t ever regret staying by my side. He’ll know he’s loved, without fail, without limits, without end.

Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I did it once, and I won’t ever do it again. I missed you every day I was gone. I wondered, more often than once, if I’d made a mistake. And every time I stayed away a little longer, it felt like I was losing my breath. Like I had less oxygen in my lungs. I was starved of it without you, El. You don’t make me feel trapped, okay? Never. You’re the air I breathe.”

I love deeply and with my whole heart. And that, quite frankly, is more important than any other phenomena I could capture with my lens. Love moves mountains. It moved me.

“It shouldn’t matter.” “What’s that?” I ask, turning my head to look at him. “Who you love,” he answers, arms crossed over his knees. “People who judge…” He shakes his head. “Love is big. Important. I think…people could love most anybody…if they only opened their hearts to it.”

Before Daddy can turn off the lights, I look up at the fireflies. He told me once that they’re Papa. That Papa is bright and beautiful and he was born with wings, which is why he flies away every few months. I asked if that makes him sad, but Daddy said no. Because Papa always flies home to us.