Do you remember those warm summer nights, where there was just enough moon to dance by? Just enough moon to glow off your best friends face. Music, guitar to be specific, ejects itself from the near by porch. "Can you hear it?", you whisper to Jesus. Oh yes, he can hear everything and music is one of the best things to hear. A jar rests gently in your hand, the cool metal ring securing the top rubs against your thumb as you run through the grass. Swish, swish against your bare legs. Hair sticks to your face in a sticky mass of sweat and summer breeze. Your bare feet crush into the ground with great enthusiasm as you run through the yard. "I have to catch that last firefly! Its the last one, I swear!", you promise to yourself. After catching the last one, you grab your best friends hand and hold it gently in your own. You look to her and whisper as if it was the last thing you ever would say, "Fireflies are fast."
Secrets are a lot like fireflies. Secrets are hard to catch; well, at least other people's are. as a friendship grows you slowly bring up the courage to invite them to catch fireflies with you. To catch secrets. Sometimes catching fireflies gets you into trouble; like if you stay out too late. Or if you catch more than your friend. Secrets can ruin the friendships you created.
In my school, best friends have notebooks with each other. You write notes to each other; sort of like a friendships diary. This can be very dangerous because if you leave your notebook where others can read it you "fireflies" will be caught by people who will use them for evil. Okay, now I just sound like I'm talking about a wizard book. But really, people can spread rumors about you. And rumors that are true are the toughest to ignore.
If your friend decides that they are mad at you then they can spread your secrets. Something that you shared with them and only them. For their eyes only. So, in way the notebooks are a weapon. A weapon of mass destruction.
I've learned in highschool, reputation is everything. If someone thinks that you are a nice person, that will be what you are the rest of the four long years. But it can work against you also. If you've done drugs, then people will see you as that the whole way through. If your secrets are spread, then people will remember that.
I myself have guarded my secrets pretty well. But I do have some dirty laundry. I'm almost to the point where I feel that if I don't air it, that I'm not being myself. Sometimes I think I should release my fireflies from their captivity. That's what Ive always done when I was a child. I released the small lights before they dies. I was compassionate like that. It's almost as if I was being humiliated by myself it would be alright. But I don't think I could take it from my friend. From any person I trusted.
When you were a kid catching fireflies was a care-free thing to do. A fun pastime to fill summer nights with. But in the field that is high school catching fireflies isn't all fun and games. It isn't easy. And sometimes instead of catching others fireflies you have to catch your own. High school is a journey through the weeds and we shouldn't be focusing on the fireflies. we should be focusing on the fun of catching them and the journey itself.
"Come on!" you call. You run up to the porch; the smack of your feet against the wood makes an appealing sound that matches the beat of the music. After setting the jars on the porch right next to each other, like twins. You grab your friend, your mother, Jesus and dance. Dance like there would never be a perfect night like this ever again in the history of man-kind. And after everyone was tired and slumped on their rocking chairs and you sat on the floor of the porch, you would watch the fireflies. They were curious little creatures that created light without electricity. You'd sigh and smile, grab the jars and release the prisoners from their cage. "Fly away home little friends," your macaroni covered mouth would utter against the sky.
Kindell.
