The Linesman & his Firefly

“Don’t it feel like there’s just not enough energy to go around some days?” Dad asked, staring at the blinking lights on the screen.

“That’s for damn sure. Ah! Looks like this neighbourhood’s out, too,” Dale said as he scanned his monitor. “Guess we’ll have to add this one to the list. That storm really did a number on the county.”

“You don’t gotta tell me twice. My little firefly over here was up cryin’ all night. The wife and I barely slept a wink,” Dad whispered. He stole a glance at me and then continued, “but you know how it is… since you called me cryin’ about the storm, too.”

Dale’s fingers hovered over his keyboard, and at that comment, he stole a glance at me, too.

“Wait, you cried, too?” I asked, clutching Bo, my teddy bear, just a little bit tighter. Dale snickered and shared a look with Dad before turning his attention back to the monitor.

“Sure did, darlin’. Storms can be scary, but ya have nothing to worry about. Yer old man’s as strong as they come. With him ‘round, ya won’t have anything to fear.” 

I looked up at Dad. He had a warm smile that spread across his whole face. Tiny wrinkles began to reach out towards his temples from his eyes. My dad is the toughest in the world.

“Aw, shoot! Garrison County’s got some hood’s out of power, too,” Dale hollered, as he pointed to an email on his screen. “I’m gonna need to find two more linesmen! I just sent my last guys to fix the lines on the east and south corners of the town and Garrison’s a good two hours north from my closest guy,” 

“I got it,” Dad replied quickly. He looked down at me with a bigger smile than before. “I’ll take this little one over here with me, too. How does that sound, firefly? Wanna help me fix some lines?” 

Dale swiveled around to face Dad. “Uh, you sure you want to do that? The lines are far apart so it’ll be a full day event. And I know you don’t need me telling you how dangero-”

“You’re right, I don’t. We’ll be just fine. She’s my good luck charm. Ain’t that right, lightning bug?”

I nodded. “I don’t have to be scared when he’s around, member?” I said to Dale.

“Okay. If you two are sure. Thanks again for doing this, bud. I owe ya one. This week’s pints are on me.” 

Dad tilted his hat at Dale and grabbed his tools before setting out.

I watched Dad climb high. He had this belt-looking doodad that helped him climb the pole. On days like this, Dad would always tell me to go play in the neighbouring sunflower fields while he worked.

“But Dad, mum says not to. She says I’ll get lost.”

“Don’t go worrying. Remember what Dale said? Besides, you’re a firefly. You’re easy to spot.”

“Daaaad! I’m not actually a firefly! I can’t fly at all!”

“You don’t need to. You glow. So, hows about I do the flying for both of us? From up here, I’ll see your glow just fine. The sunflowers will see your glow, too. It might be too bright for them, though, so make sure to push them aside when you walk. Give them enough space to see your light from far away.”

I stared at my hands, waiting for them to illuminate, but they never did. How come Dad can see my powers, but I can’t? I looked back up at him to ask, but he was busy fixing something at the top of the pole. So, with Bo in tow, and my invisible glowing powers, I ran through the sunflower fields, just as I always did on my day trips with Dad. I loved running through these fields. Towering green stems stretched toward the cotton puffs floating above. Frilly brown and yellow suns danced worlds above my fingertips. Bo and I played hide and seek among the stalks, but he was never good at hiding. As always, when Dad would finish working on the pole, he’d whistle into the field. At the time, I couldn’t whistle, so I’d respond by singing Mum’s favorite song, “You Are My Sunshine,” at the top of my lungs. Dad would always find me after the first few words. He’d lift me onto his shoulders and tell me that I could fly higher than the sunflower stalks. I’d steer us back to the truck for our next stop. After a long day’s work, we’d find ourselves listening to a symphony of crickets on the drive home. Dad’s radio would barely play, but I could always count on his humming to waft into the backseat. On the ride home that night, the ham and swiss sandwich Dad had gotten me was settled comfortably in my stomach and my eyelids had started to feel heavy. 

“Oh, see that, firefly? Shooting stars,” Dad pointed out the passenger side towards the sky. I blinked the sandman’s spell away and pressed my face up against the window. “Not like that,” he chuckled and rolled my window down. I poked my head out of the window. Beads of light dashed along the sky, leaving faint glowing trails behind them, which seemed to disappear just as soon as they had arrived. Their glow wasn’t like mine. I could see their glow very clearly. They might have been tiny like me, but they didn’t get lost in the gigantic field of darkness up above. Their glow was so beautiful, they demanded to be seen, never losing the battle for attention among their dormant fellow stars.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Dad asked, his voice breaking my gaze.

“No,” I grumbled. A sharp pain emerged behind my eyes. Droplets fell onto my arms, sliding around my wrists, leaving wet lines in their wake.

“What’s wrong, firefly? What’s got you all worked up? Can’t be them stars.”

“Of course it’s the stars! You can see their glow from all the way down here! You said you could see mine, but I didn’t! Plus, they’re only pretty for one second and then they disappear! That’s all we get with them. Where do they go? Does anybody else even get to see them once they go behind the big trees?” I stared at Dad through the dad-box. I could see those little wrinkles beside his eyes again.

“Oh, firefly.”

“And fireflies!” I sobbed harder. “They’re just like the shooting stars! They only blink for one second. Just one second, before they disappear in the darkness!” My sleeves were drenched now.

Dad pushed the power button on the radio. Suddenly, the chirping crickets sang even louder. “I don’t really know where they go, but people all over the world get to see their light before they fly away. It just depends on who you are and where you’re at. Th-”

“What do you mean?” I asked through sniffles.

“Well, it’s like this lightning bug. The stars like to show themselves to us farm folk. They get shy with all those bright lights in the city. They adore the stillness of meadows and the gentle lull of the sea. So, they share their brilliance with the people who long for light and wonder – the people who search the skies for purpose and belonging.”

I tried to make sense of what Dad said. 

“And you’re right, they’re only here for a split second, but that’s what makes them so special! For that brief moment, you get to see them light up the sky. You get to see all of their energy before they’re gone! That’s a rare occurrence, darlin’. Fireflies are no different. They gift us with the knowledge that we’ll never be alone. In a blink of an eye, their light may go out, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. So, you may not see your glow, but others can. Being able to see stars fly across the night sky in search of something more, or fireflies waltz and twirl around the barn at dusk, are rare memories that bond people like you and me long after they disappear.”

Dad’s words hung in the air for a moment. I stared up at the still sky, no shooting star in sight now. The darkness of the night seemed heavier and somehow less charming. 

“So, do you think the shooting stars wanted us to see their final journey? Do you think they found what they were looking for?”

“I’m not sure if they found what they were looking for, but I imagine they were happy sharing their light with us before they disappeared. Y’know, whether we’re together or apart, you’re my firefly. Sometimes, we might forget that other people can see our glow. Sometimes, we forget that we can glow at all. So, remember that glowing power of yours, ’cause it’s very special. Your glow banishes every shadow of darkness. When people feel that glow, they’ll know they’re not alone. Understand?”

This time Dad turned his head around to see me. I couldn’t help but smile at his peaceful expression. I nodded, and hugged Bo as hard as I could. “That’s my girl. Hows about we keep an eye out for more shooting stars?”

Without missing a beat, my head was back out the window, searching for my sparkly friends and the trails of hope they left behind.

--

I clutched the black and white pamphlet in my hand. Mum was already sitting in her pew with Dad’s handkerchief on her lap. As I took my place beside her, waiting for mass to begin, Dale shuffled in beside me. 

“My, my, you’ve grown. You’re a complete vision, just like your momma,” he said, as he nudged me gently. I flashed him a weak smile and thanked him for coming. “Hey, uh, listen kiddo. I’m sorry that this happened. You have my deepest condolences.”

I nodded slightly and patted his hand. Seeing Dale’s face brought me back to all those work trips Dad took me on. I’d give anything for another long night spent in the back seat of his pick-up. I yearned to watch the yellow lines race beside the car as we travelled from town to town under God’s cosmic canvas. Just one more night to see those crow’s feet stretch out towards his temples and have his gentle hum fill my ears.

“Ya gotta know, it’s a hard job. Guys like us don’t like talkin’ ‘bout it much, but every day spent on that pole is a gamble with yer life. That takes a toll on ya. He served our little town like a true hero. He fixed more lines than any other guy I had. ‘Cause of him, this town stayed lit and warm.” 

Dale’s voice cut through my thoughts. He took his seat at a different pew. Mum dropped her head into Dad’s handkerchief and wept so deeply it made my heart sink. I watched the wooden casket make its way to the altar. There was that pain behind my eyes again. I heard a cell phone ring at the back of the church, which brought me back to the very phone call that changed everything.

I was hundreds of miles away, attending college in a city I had fallen in love with. I was far from those old wooden power lines, and screeching crickets. At a bar with friends, I had found a new comfort amongst the loud cheers and fizzing pints. Life in the city is grand – there was always a party to attend, a play to watch or a museum to get lost in.

But a sudden a phone call from Mum brought me outside, away from all the noise. Her voice blurting – he’s gone! – through violent sobs. As her words settled, sodden beads found their familiar home on my arms.

“He left a note,” she managed. “It’s addressed to you.”

Returning home was a challenge on its own. I drove through the dark empty roads. This time, the crickets were hushed. Where had they gone? The sound of the radio had proven to be too much, but the silence was unbearable. I kept fidgeting with my rear-view mirror. No matter how many times I adjusted it, it never seemed to sit right. I used to call it my dad-box as a child. From the backseat, all I could see in it was my dad. The hours I spent behind the wheel seemed to stretch on painfully. I left my windows cracked in hopes of letting the furious winds against my car fill my ears. Every so often, I’d catch a glimpse of my white knuckles on the steering wheel, and attempt to unfurl them. That entire drive, I kept watching those familiar wooden power lines fly by and disappear into the darkness behind me. With every passing line, I’d stare into the rear-view mirror. I don’t quite know what I was hoping to see, but whatever it was, it never made an appearance.

Home felt cold. I held Mum for days, desperately fighting that pinching behind my eyes and avoiding the white envelope placed on the kitchen counter. 

“Read it when you’re ready,” Mum told me. A full month had passed before I finally had the courage to peel the seal off. The letter read:

           To my dearest firefly,

I’m so sorry. It seems I’ve got no energy left. I’ve been running on empty for a while now. I think I’ve forgotten what energy looks like… what it feels like. Please don’t be too sad. No matter how hard life gets, don’t forget to look up. We’ll always have the stars.

  Dad

           For years, I kept the letter to myself, but the questions that were once nagging acquaintances became intruders that I could no longer ignore. I shared the letter, and my grief with Mum. She told me that Dad’s depression had been following him since childhood. “His work made matters worse over the years. He just hid it well,” she said bleakly. So well, I’d never known about it. Despite Mum’s efforts to give me closure, I avoided speaking about Dad for months. Even at his funeral, I had remained strong. But thinking that the cost of my ignorance was his life, was insufferable. How had I missed the signs? 

He always called me his firefly, his light. He spoke of my glow like I was a ray of sun piercing through foggy clouds in the darkest of storms. He made me feel like I was extraordinary when, in fact, my glow was just an extension of the love he showed me. His crow’s feet had become my lighthouse in thunderous times. His hums and whistles were my lifelines to the warmest home I’d ever known. Was it selfish for me to take my glow away from him? Mum told me that depression is a monster that clings for life at the expense of the one it latches onto. She said, “you did all you could, based on what he wanted you to know.” Though my heart still aches at the sound of a faint whistle or the sight of an old utility pole, I remind myself of how lucky I am that I got to experience all of his energy while he was here. His vitality was the tenderness and charm I felt all along, and like those shooting stars, he’s passed the edge of the trees, no longer in my field of view. But the trail he left behind is one my heart will never forget.