Summer had always been my favourite time of the year. The sun would cast a warm glow over the hills as it set in the distance. The air would still be warm from the heat of the day, but the shadows from the hills would start to creep over the house and the air would begin to cool. The birds would still be singing and the crickets chirping, but if you got too close they would go silent for a moment, as if time had come to a standstill, resuming only when the crickets did.
After dinner when there was still some sunlight, my little brother and I would go out into the woods behind our house. The moths would surround the lamps on the porch, and one could often hear them bouncing off the lamps as they got too close to the light. We would run through the grass and watch the fireflies light up, as they disappeared into the night sky and you couldn't tell whether they were stars or not. No matter how many times we saw them, it always took my breath away and calmed all my thoughts and worries. It was like we were the only people left in the world. I felt like I could touch the stars, so close were they to my outstretched fingers, with the moon the only thing too distant for me to reach.
Our cat had followed us out into the backyard, woken from his lazy laying about by our disruptive laughter. His attempts at attacking the fireflies were quite amusing. We'd quietly giggle as he hid in the long, yellow grass, tail flicking, ears twitching, waiting for him to interrupt the quiet hum of crickets. Pounce. He'd slowly lift a paw to see if he'd caught anything, and more often than not, he hadn't, as the fireflies had managed to escape his paws.
One summer, our parents helped us tie two tire swings to a tree near the lake. Sometimes in the heat of the afternoon, we would cut fruit or we'd eat icy poles, but have to hurry before they melted and made everything sticky. The lake was the best place to cool down; swimming in the cool water and have races or rock skipping competitions while the kookaburras laughed in the gum trees and the cicadas chirped away.
***
Summers weren't the same anymore. Gone were the summers of chasing fireflies and sitting on tire swings while watching the sun set. Gone the days when we'd chase each other through the woods and climb trees or play on the tire swing. This had all been replaced when I left our house in the country and moved to the city for work; I hadn't been back since. The air was humid and remained that way long into the night. The sky, though appearing to be clear, was hazy from the city's pollution.
When the sun had set, the air was still and there was rarely a breeze to cool the night. Most nights, I would sit on the balcony of my apartment, hoping for a nice breeze and clear sky, giving me the opportunity for a glimpse of the vast starry sky. The city lights and haze hanging over the city made it impossible to see the stars, and there was no chance of seeing the milky way; the moon was the only thing visible.
***
Even though there was nothing stopping me from returning home, nor keeping me in the city, I was having an internal conversation with myself about returning after being away for so long. I was afraid my childhood memories would be ruined by the realisation that they were remembered with rose-tinted glass that would now be shattered by my return.
However, I was willing to risk that. The memories themselves would not be destroyed, simply altered. My little brother would be there. I had not seen him in what felt like centuries. But I knew that seeing him would make the return easier, and maybe we could create some new memories or relive the joy of our youth.
Upon seeing him, he embraced me in a bear hug; a feeling of security enveloping me, something I had not know was missing in my life. Conversation flowed, despite the years apart. I had missed that, and the feeling of connection. I didn't have that in the city, and had separated myself from all reminders of home.
Walking down memory lane, we decided to go to the firefly field. The grass seemed shorted, although I'm sure it was as tall as it had been back when we were kids; it was us that had grown. The trees no longer seemed like giants towering over us, despite being metres above our heads. As we approached the grass, we could see the fireflies against the navy blue, cloudless backdrop of the sky. They looked like embers from a fire, floating around. We could see the stars too. Oh, how I had missed seeing the stars. In the country, there were no lights or pollution to obscure the stunning view, and the fireflies were almost like shooting stars. I know it's childish to wish on a firefly; they're not shooting stars, but maybe, just because there are so many, my wish would come true. An eternal summer.
