THE FIREFLIES WERE DANCING

They started to give faint flickers at the first kiss of dusk. The woods were hushed, the breeze wafted just a breath. The lamp posts were lighted but for the most part it was quiet and somber.

He said something about high school dances. She laughed a little, and talked about the tragedies of such events. She remembered her best friend’s uncanny experience of a nightmarish prom.

“Did we dance back then?” he asked.

“No. You only danced with Bernadette.”

He stood up. “Come here”, he held her hand as he stepped up the elevated rock. “Dance with me.”

“But we have no music,” she hesitated. She wasn’t really sure the idea was a good one.

He searched for his phone, thinking a ring tone would do the trick.

Not so romantic, she mused. After a while, he suggested she should sing.

She stopped short of breath. No, she’s not a singer. She never did sing for someone else save for babies she lulled to sleep. She’s not going to sing for a stranger now.

Indeed he was a stranger. They have known each other for less than a month and yet here they were, looking deeply into each other’s eyes and searching for explanations for the intimacy they are sharing.

She mumbled a few lines at first.

Then the notes took to lives of their own. It was the sweetest song she ever sang in years, and it surprised her even. The melody spoke of deep-seated feelings she never knew to have existed inside of her. Her head was on his shoulders. His, on her head.

They were dancing. He held her like some china that could break anytime-- so fragile, so unsure. They were locked in an embrace of love untold. Oftentimes, she giggled at the peculiarity of it all. He, on the other hand, closed his eyes from time to time, thinking he is in a trance or a dream.

No, they were not imagining things. The fireflies were dancing with them. Like the old tale of two souls swept by the current of serendipity, the creatures of light were there to celebrate with them. They were swirling around, faithfully fluttering their finest glow.