Fireflies and Noble Gases

Sometimes the road doesn’t go where you thought it would.

Sometimes you spend thousands of miles chasing a horizon only to discover that the horizon had other plans.

And sometimes, if you’re very lucky, you end up exactly where you need to be.

I found myself in Tennessee with a tired Subaru named Cora, a brand-new tent, and a deep desire to stop moving for a while.

So I did something unusual.

I stopped.

Not for a night.

Not for a weekend.

I secured a campsite through payday.

No gas.

No packing up.

No driving.

Just stillness.

Before the fireflies, there was kindness.

At one of my lowest moments, exhausted and lost while a GPS sent me in circles, I met an incredible lady.

I won’t share her name because I never asked permission, but she sat me at her kitchen table, put her hand on my arm, and said she would give me step-by-step directions.

Then she asked me to please call when I reached my destination.

Who does that for a stranger?

Apparently, beautiful human beings do.

She has since called to check on me, and I believe we are now friends.

From the bottom of my heart: thank you.

You reminded a weary traveler that kindness still exists in this world.

And then evening came.

Oh, my friends.

The fireflies.

I have seen fireflies before, but never like this. Hundreds. Perhaps thousands. Tiny green lanterns drifting through the trees and across the creek as if the stars themselves had descended into the forest.

ARE YOU SERIOUS??!!

Yes.

The campground staff smiled and told me there would be even more every night.

They had only just started.

During the day I walked the grounds. I saw a cardinal. I picked up interesting rocks from the creek bed. I took photographs of roots and water and trees that seemed determined to touch the sky.

And then there was the tent.

My new tent is enormous compared to the old one. I was thrilled—until it came time to put the rainfly on.

That rainfly was a challenge.

After some creative engineering, I attached the front, wrapped a heavy stick in the back portion, and launched that bad boy over the top of the tent.

Voila.

Field engineering at its finest.

I taught chemistry for many years, and chemistry still sneaks into my thoughts.

Noble gases are my favorite. Their outer shells are full. Stable. Complete. They don’t need another atom to become what they already are.

As for He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?

  Let’s just say that in my private periodic table, he is Na—forever seeking equilibrium, but without the possibility of ever filling a shell.”

Some elements simply never achieve equilibrium.

But me?

For now, I have a tent.

I have a creek.

I have fireflies.

And for the first time in a long while, I have nowhere I need to drive tomorrow.

Electron shells.

Stable.

I know this.

Polished with help from ChatGPT, who understands Mayday Murphy far better than any reasonable being should.