Every summer, they come back.
They appear among the lilies and along the stone walls once night has fallen and the day's heat is still held between the walls.
The children know a gecko can be held for a few seconds before being returned to its place.
Fireflies, no.
Never.
We look at them.
We point to them.
And we leave them where they are.
They have been returning for so many years that they belong to the house just as much as the June lilies, the fruit on the table, or the dinners that stretch on under the stars.
They make no sound.
They ask for no attention.
They do not light the way.
They simply stay there, suspended in the dark with a light so small it makes you come closer and look slowly.
Perhaps that is why we love them so much.
Because they remind us that the most precious things rarely compete to be seen.
And that calm does not always arrive when everything stops.
Sometimes it appears as a small green light, hidden among the stones, reminding us that there are still things that are in no hurry.
— Villa S