Episode 7: The Fireflies of the Quiet Meadow

Hello, and welcome to another episode of Sleepy Starship.

Are you ready to take a space adventure, and explore a new world with me?

Well, come on then. Let's go.

Tonight, you are the Captain of the Sleepy Starship. It is waiting for you in the driveway, as quiet as a parked car.

Your co-pilot is Choo-Choo, a small, sleepy alien friend. She has patterned fur, a long curly tail, and big round ears. Choo-Choo never says a word. She purrs, and coos, and trills instead.

You put on your robe and tie the belt in a bow. You open the back door, and walk down the steps, and across the driveway, where the ground is still a little warm from the day.

The ship's door slides open. Choo-Choo is sitting right inside, holding something in her paws. It's a small glass jar with a lid. She holds it up to show you, and trills.

"Hello again, Captain," says the ship's calm voice. "Choo-Choo has packed a jar. Tonight, she thinks we will need it."

You climb in, and sit down, and buckle up. Choo-Choo keeps the jar in her lap.

The engines rumble low, and the ship rises off the driveway, past the roof, past the streetlights, up into the dark.

Out the window, you see two small moons, going around and around each other, slowly, like two dancers holding hands.

Choo-Choo watches them, and her head goes around in a little circle, too.

"Captain," says the ship, "tonight we are flying to Summerdusk. It is a planet where it is always a warm summer evening. And it has a meadow full of fireflies."

A dark green planet swells up in the window, and the ship sinks down into tall summer grass.

The door opens. Warm air comes in. It smells like cut grass and clover.

You step out into the meadow. The grass comes up to your knees, and it is soft, and a little bit damp. All around you, crickets are singing, a slow, steady chirp, chirp, like a clock that's almost asleep.

It's dark. The sky is a deep, dark blue.

And then, right in front of you, a little light blinks on.

It blinks off.

Then another one blinks on, over there. And another, up high. And another, down low in the grass.

Fireflies.

Hundreds of them. All across the meadow, tiny yellow lights blinking on and off, on and off, slowly, like the meadow is breathing.

Choo-Choo's eyes go very wide. A firefly lands on the end of her nose. Its light blinks on, right between her eyes. She goes cross-eyed, trying to look at it.

Then it flies away.

Then you notice something. The fireflies are not all flying in different directions. Some of them are lining up, low over the grass, one after another, making a path of little lights that leads across the meadow.

You and Choo-Choo follow the path. Step by step. The grass swishes against your legs.

The path of lights leads you to the edge of the meadow, where there is a big, old tree.

And under the tree, in a nest of flattened grass, there is a fawn.

A baby deer. Brown, with little white spots all along its back. Its legs are long and thin, and folded up underneath it. Its ears are big, and its eyes are dark and sleepy.

Choo-Choo creeps up, very slowly, and makes a tiny questioning chirp. The fawn turns its head and looks at her. Its ears flick forward. Then it lowers its head and rests its chin on the grass.

The fireflies gather around the tree, blinking, slowly. It's like they lit up a path, just so you could come and say goodnight.

You sit down in the grass, near the fawn. Not too close. Just close enough.

The fawn's eyes start to close. They open. They close again, a little longer this time.

Choo-Choo holds up her jar, and looks at you.

You take off the lid, and hold the jar up, very still, in the air.

A firefly flies in. Then another one. Then one more. They walk around on the inside of the glass on their tiny legs, and they blink. On, and off. On, and off.

You hold the jar in your lap. It's like holding a little lantern. The light makes Choo-Choo's face golden, and the fawn's spots, and the tips of the grass.

You sit like that for a while. Just watching them blink.

But fireflies belong in the meadow.

So you lift the lid off again, and hold the jar up high. One by one, the fireflies climb up to the rim, and spread their wings, and fly away, back out over the grass, to join all the others.

Now the jar is empty. But it is still warm from the fireflies. And it smells like summer grass.

You put the lid back on. Choo-Choo gives the jar a little pat.

The fawn is fast asleep now, curled up under the tree.

Back across the meadow, the ship is sitting in the grass, dark and still.

"Captain," says the ship, "the fawn is sleeping. Let's let it rest."

You wade back through the warm grass, with your empty jar, and the fireflies blink all around you, like they are saying goodnight.

The ship lifts up over the meadow, and Summerdusk becomes one more little light among the stars.

Choo-Choo leans her head on your arm. A small, drowsy snore comes out of her. Then she's asleep.

The ship drops back past the streetlights, and lands in your driveway, as quietly as it left.

You carry Choo-Choo inside, through the back door.

You set the empty jar on your windowsill. And if you look at it just right, you can almost see the fireflies, still blinking inside.

You get into bed, and lie on your side.

Choo-Choo settles next to your pillow, warm and still.

Far away, on Summerdusk, the fawn is sleeping under the big old tree. And all across the meadow, the fireflies are blinking, slower, and slower, like little lights getting sleepy.

Let's breathe slowly, like the fireflies.

Breathe in slowly. Now breathe out. Breathe in again. And breathe out.

You're home now, Captain. Safe and warm.

Your ship is resting. Choo-Choo is resting. And now it's your turn to rest.

Now it's time to say goodbye, but we'll soon meet again on another Sleepy Starship adventure. Goodnight, Captain.