The Light We Carry at Dusk
A poetic reflection on my first summer as a mother—chasing fireflies with my baby under a cotton candy sky, learning that the richest moments of life are found presence
7/14/20251 min read
It was July — my first summer as a mother.
Nova wasn’t even one yet.
I left my phone inside.
Bare feet in the grass.
Tiny fingers clutching my shirt.
She clung to my hip under a cotton candy sky —
streaks of pink melting into soft blue.
We were chasing fireflies.
I’d see one flicker ahead, follow it, then lose it in the dusk —
until it glowed again.
And when it did, I’d reach out gently, whispering:
“This is a firefly.”
She watched, curious — wonder wide in her eyes.
We played in one of the few soft green corners near my old brick apartment.
And I realized:
I want to spend every summer night like this —
chasing nightlight with my daughter.
I couldn’t help but smile to myself,
because I knew:
I was the richest person alive.