Odin's Firefly Goodbye

Odin shuffled around his almost-empty room. It wasn’t the same without his racecar bed and baseball shaped toy chest. All of his things were in the moving van — everything except his ratty, oversized beanbag chair. His mom said the beanbag was not coming with them.

His big sister, Nora, tried to cheer him up. She told him that his room was much bigger at their new house. She talked about all the trees in their new backyard, and the tire swing their Dad had promised to put up for them. But nothing she said changed the mopey look on Odin’s face.

“Remember the closet underneath the stairs in the new house?” Nora asked, trying one last time. “Mom said we can do anything we want with it. I think we should put glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.”

“Cool,” murmured Odin.

Nora pursed her lips. “Odin, I don’t get it. You were excited about moving until today. What’s up?”

Odin frowned. “I just feel…sort of bad leaving this house. It probably thinks we’re abandoning it.”

Nora sighed. She almost reminded Odin that houses weren’t alive and that they didn’t have thoughts or feelings, but knew it wouldn’t do any good. When Odin got an idea in his head, he refused to listen to reason.

Their mom popped into the doorway. She was all dusty with a smudge of black on her chin, and her short hair was sticking up in the front.

Nora giggled. “Looking good, Mom.”

“It’s my hair, isn’t it?” their mom asked. She shrugged, not waiting for an answer. “We’ve almost got it all. Your dad and I are going to clean out the garage. It shouldn’t take us more than an hour. Then we’ll grab some hamburgers and milkshakes. You two doing OK?”

“We’re fine,” said Nora.

“Fine,” mumbled Odin.

“All right,” she said, scooting off. “Try not to make a mess!” they heard her yell from halfway down the hall.

Odin’s shoulders slumped even more as he paced the floor. Nora rolled her eyes. Odin worried too much. What he needed was a distraction, but all their good games and toys were already in the van.

Exhausted, Nora plopped down onto Odin’s beanbag. Beans poured out of the big gash on its side.

“Great,” she muttered. “Mom’s gonna make me pull out the vacuum again.”

Odin nodded as he stepped over to his window — the one that shed paint chips every time it was opened and closed. He stared out at the darkening sky for a while. Then suddenly he shoved the heavy pane of glass upward. When he began to pry the screen out of its ancient wooden frame, Nora sat up straight.

“What are you — ” she began, but it was too late. He had already wrenched the screen loose and was tossing it aside.

“That was dumb,” Nora said.

“Those are hard to get back on. And now you have paint chips all over the floor.”

Odin didn’t seem to hear her. He was in full concentration mode with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. He leaned out the window as far as he could go.

“For Pete’s sake!” Nora yelled. “Stop that before you fall.”

Odin pulled himself back into the room. He turned to face Nora, holding his hands together in front of him. “I caught one,” he said.

“Caught what?”

“A firefly.”

Nora raised one eyebrow. “Let me see.”

“First shut the window and the door,” he said.

Nora didn’t normally take orders from her little brother but decided it would be OK — just this once. She secured the room, then tapped her foot against the scratched hardwood. “All right. Let’s see it.”

Slowly, Odin uncurled his hand. The firefly lifted off his palm, exploring its new space.

“Turn the light off,” whispered Nora.

Odin raced to the switch. The firefly quickened its dance, blinking to the right of them, then to the left. One second, it was across the room; the next, it was inches from their faces.

“It’s looking for a mate,” Nora said, “or it thinks we’re a predator.” She turned to Odin. “We should catch more.”

Odin smiled a big, toothy grin.

“Bet I can catch more than you.”

“Bet you can’t,” Nora challenged, already heading for the door.

Odin was at her heels. Together, they charged down the staircase and out into the narrow plot of grass they called a backyard.

“Here, fireflies!” they sang with cupped hands and outreached arms.

They each caught one of the luminous bugs, then stormed into the house to put them in Odin’s room.

“More,” Odin said simply, and he and Nora returned to the yard.

As the sun sank lower in the sky, the fireflies multiplied. Odin and Nora were able to catch two, three, sometimes four at a time. They made trip after trip until they were out of breath.

“That’s plenty,” Nora announced.

She closed Odin’s door one last time and pushed her little brother toward the center of the room. They both fell onto the decrepit beanbag, pushing more of its innards out onto the floor. Nora thought about the vacuum again, but not for long. The fireflies had transformed Odin’s room into an enchanted realm, and it was impossible to think about cleaning as she watched their twinkling bodies circling above her.

“Neat, huh?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Odin whispered back.

Nora chewed on her lip. “Mom and Dad won’t be happy about this. Maybe filling your room with a bunch of bugs wasn’t the best idea. Dad’s gonna make up one of his crazy punishments — like the time he took away all our soda for a whole month.”

Odin shrugged. “Worth it.”

Nora glanced at her brother. Every trace of worry was gone from his face. Suddenly she realized what Odin had needed to feel better about the move. He needed one last memory of their old house before he could let it go — a really great memory…a firefly goodbye.

“You’re right,” Nora said, laughing as she laced her fingers behind her head. “This was totally worth it.”