 | Owl City - Fireflies |  |
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 | Found at skreemr.com |  |
I smile. Before I left I had trouble enough grasping that she was eight, my clearest memories of her are when she was closer to five or six, before I got sick.
You would not believe your eyesI can remember running through fields at that age where long grass licked my ankles and tugged at my bare feet, chasing fireflies. My grandmother brought me a jar from the kitchen and we tapped holes in the tin lid with the point of a Phillips screwdriver. I remember the sheer joy of seeing them hovering in the twilight over the quad at college for the first time, that fantastic feeling of coming home to something familiar.
If 10 million fireflies
Lit up the world as I fell asleep
Cuz they'd fill the open air
And leave teardrops everywhere
You'd think me rude
But I would just stand and stare
"You remember fireflies," I ask her, "from our old house?"
She doesn't hear me, she's absorbed in her texting. I go back to stirring the rice pudding on the stove.
***
Even at 9 I had known something very big, and probably very bad was happening when my mother had taken me to my favourite restaurant for "special time together." I could normally count the times we ate out on one hand in a year.
"Pika," my mother said gently, "I have some very big news."
I dug into some ice cream with a spoon. If mom was going to spring bad news on me I was going to at least get a chance to eat desert first out of it.
"Our family is going to be a little bit bigger soon."
"You're pregnant?"
"We might adopt a little girl from China who hasn't got a family."
I remember being overwhelmed by two thoughts. The first was that at the point where my mother was telling me this there wasn't really any actual "might" involved here at all. The second was that my mother was in her mid-fourties and dad was scraping fifty. I couldn't think of anybody that age with a newborn child, and couldn't figure out why that was.
"We're going to be about 10 years apart?"
"Yes."
"Are you...expecting me to help raise her?"
"Only as a sister."
I took another scoop of ice cream, thoroughly unconvinced.
"Pika," my mother said gently, "I have some very big news."
I dug into some ice cream with a spoon. If mom was going to spring bad news on me I was going to at least get a chance to eat desert first out of it.
"Our family is going to be a little bit bigger soon."
"You're pregnant?"
"We might adopt a little girl from China who hasn't got a family."
I remember being overwhelmed by two thoughts. The first was that at the point where my mother was telling me this there wasn't really any actual "might" involved here at all. The second was that my mother was in her mid-fourties and dad was scraping fifty. I couldn't think of anybody that age with a newborn child, and couldn't figure out why that was.
"We're going to be about 10 years apart?"
"Yes."
"Are you...expecting me to help raise her?"
"Only as a sister."
I took another scoop of ice cream, thoroughly unconvinced.
***
By mid-high school my sister was calling me "Mom" by mistake more often than I was comfortable with. I remember doing the same thing in early elementary school with my Waldorf teacher, first calling her mom once by accident and then repeating the "mistake" because a part of my head really liked that idea.
***My memories of being sick are blurry, but I distinctly remember finding and watching Grave of the Fireflies. More friends than I could count had told me I would bawl like a child at the end, but instead I couldn't remember being more enraged at a film. The boy had an obligation to his sister before his personal pride, and no matter how wretched his aunt was being I felt he should have stayed there until the food stopped, in order to try to provide for his sister. At 10 years apart he needed to care for her and put her above all else, as she'd never be able to look after herself at that age. Just looking at that little tin of candies in the grocery store made me mad for months.
***
Leave my door open just a crack
(Please take me away from here)
Because I feel like such an insomniac
(Please take me away from here)
***
I went to college more resentful of my parents than you'd believe, and every time I thought about them I worried for my sister. Issac and I were too close in age for me to protect, and my mother had always gotten along very well with him, but my sister I could do something about. All I had to do was graduate well-decorated, land a steady reputable high-paying job in a very good school district and get a chance to take care of her during her high school years. This desire stemmed from very simple logic: either my parents were not as bad as I thought they were, or I would be a terrible person to leave my sister to the same fate when I had the capacity to do something about it.
***
But I'll know where several are
If my dreams get real bizarre
'Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar
***
"Why don't they light up?" a six-year-old me asked, shaking the newly-re-purposed peanut butter jar.
The jar was hastily steadied by my grandma, "Don't shake it, you'll hurt them. I guess they just don't feel like lighting up right now."
My cousin Tom taught me how to kill the bugs when they lit up and smear their color on the pavement, but this was not what I wanted. I wanted a living, breathing nightlight which I could care for and in return could light my room.
The jar was hastily steadied by my grandma, "Don't shake it, you'll hurt them. I guess they just don't feel like lighting up right now."
My cousin Tom taught me how to kill the bugs when they lit up and smear their color on the pavement, but this was not what I wanted. I wanted a living, breathing nightlight which I could care for and in return could light my room.
Leaves, sticks, more air vents, I even once opened the jar after mom tucked me in to let them roam my whole room, but the results were always exactly the same. The next morning I had nothing but dead fireflies.
"Well, maybe they are just fragile," Mom offered.
Almost fifteen years later I am standing in the Torii lobby asking out of the blue if anybody ever mastered this.
"I just don't think they survive the night," Jen offered, "they are probably short-lived..."
I sighed, "I just probably never knew how to care for them."
"Well, maybe they are just fragile," Mom offered.
Almost fifteen years later I am standing in the Torii lobby asking out of the blue if anybody ever mastered this.
"I just don't think they survive the night," Jen offered, "they are probably short-lived..."
I sighed, "I just probably never knew how to care for them."
***
There are curling irons mixed in with the rockband controllers. She's fooling with the wires and a little upset.
"There was a man outside when I was walking the dog," she informs me. "He was smoking and drinking."
I smiled a little bit. My sister was still untangling the cords.
"He asked if he could pet the dog and I was scared, so I said no because she bites and came back."
Thirteen. What does a good parent of a thirteen year old do? Certainly no drinking, no hardcore partying, limited going out late, having to stay out of trouble, and forget doing any serious dating... I'd essentially skip the lifestyle of my early 20's for four years, followed by another four years of being careful and financially stable to provide her a good college education. I'd need to move into an apartment with space for her and shift my work hours so I could be with her. Would the company feed her like they feed me? Otherwise I also need to make meals for her...
Even if I could do all that, could I provide her a good home? Would it be any more realistic or do her any more good than the stick and some leaves in a jar with air holes did for the fireflies? Single working parents have to be nearly heroic to raise children well...and here I've barely figured out all the stuff I have to not do, let alone be sure to do.
"Shit," she says, tugging on the cords.
"You're getting a little gratuitous with the swearing." I add, "It doesn't mean a lot if it's every fourth word."
She looks up at me with an expression I cannot quite fully read, but it definitely says "but you swear."
I'm not sure I can do this.
"There was a man outside when I was walking the dog," she informs me. "He was smoking and drinking."
I smiled a little bit. My sister was still untangling the cords.
"He asked if he could pet the dog and I was scared, so I said no because she bites and came back."
Thirteen. What does a good parent of a thirteen year old do? Certainly no drinking, no hardcore partying, limited going out late, having to stay out of trouble, and forget doing any serious dating... I'd essentially skip the lifestyle of my early 20's for four years, followed by another four years of being careful and financially stable to provide her a good college education. I'd need to move into an apartment with space for her and shift my work hours so I could be with her. Would the company feed her like they feed me? Otherwise I also need to make meals for her...
Even if I could do all that, could I provide her a good home? Would it be any more realistic or do her any more good than the stick and some leaves in a jar with air holes did for the fireflies? Single working parents have to be nearly heroic to raise children well...and here I've barely figured out all the stuff I have to not do, let alone be sure to do.
"Shit," she says, tugging on the cords.
"You're getting a little gratuitous with the swearing." I add, "It doesn't mean a lot if it's every fourth word."
She looks up at me with an expression I cannot quite fully read, but it definitely says "but you swear."
I'm not sure I can do this.
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