Last night we saw something out in the garden, looking out from our glass-panelled front door that took us back in time and left us with an almost mystical feeling. I just happened to glance out at the darkened garden, lit by the garden lantern when I saw a little flash, then another and another. At first I thought it was the eyes of a small animal, caught by the errant glare of the lantern. But those little flashing lights began popping up everywhere. And then all was still; no more lights.

 

I called Irving over but the lights stubbornly withdrew. Then after a long pause a few flickered and he saw I wasn't delusional, after all. The sight brought him back to a time when he was a young boy visiting relatives in upper New York State and he saw fireflies there for the first time. Then again, when our children were  young, say about 45 years ago, we would often take them to the Gatineau Park wilderness area for summer evening live classical music arranged by the NCC.

As we would wait for the artists to arrive, and people about us were seated on blankets, quietly whispering in the dark, we would see flickering lights popping up here and there among the vegetation on the forest floor. Our two older children at that time played in their school orchestra at a specialized art-focused high school, while our youngest was a self-directed, budding biologist. He caught a few of the bugs and displayed them, blinking, in the palm of his hand.

 

Last night I awoke to loud claps of thunder directly overhead and Jackie and Jillie offering the loud claps in canine translation back in kind. Rain lashed the windows, and I got up to close our bedroom window and those at the front of the house. Very dramatic, looking out on the darkened street, glittering with pounding rain, the ominous sound of clashing rain-heavy clouds above. Also comfortable, as I snuggled back into bed.

In the morning an email awaited me. I had already been prewarned last night with an initial email. My sister-in-law had been admitted to the emergency department at North York General Hospital. Today I learned she had suffered a stroke, and bleeding on the brain. She is fourteen years younger than Irving and me. News like that leaves you emotionally floundering. Emotions seem to close in and they're all dark and foreboding. You want to comfort her husband, but his role now is one of enduring patience.

Irving made himself busy today. Out came a stepladder so he could replace burnt-out bulbs in one of the outdoor lanterns. Then he located a small can of the dark green paint he had used for the outside trim of the house to touch up a few areas here and there. Keeping busy helps a mind dealing with a confused series of thoughts and memories.

 

In the afternoon we went out with Jackie and Jillie for their usual hike through the forest trails. They had been running amok through the house in happy anticipation of that event, occasionally sliding with an excited whack into one of us in their rambunctious glee. After last night's heavy rain, the air remained saturated as though a fine mist remained. But there was a cool wind and the sun had emerged and a pleasant walk awaited us.

 

Watching Jackie and Jillie concentrate on everything around them, careful not to miss anything at all that might seen unusual, attracts our attention to them and moves our minds elsewhere. Their high spirits seem to lift ours. Their exuberance and dedication to living life to its fullest yet another metaphor, like replacing a light bulb so light can pierce the darkness, just as medical care has the potential to ameliorate a life-changing adverse health situation.