The little girl sat in the bay window, surrounded by pillows.  She leaned her head against the paned glass and looked out into the misty blue dusk.  She let out a sigh that was much too mature for her seven years.  Her raven hair looked like wet ink spilled down her white cotton nightgown. Her eyes were the color of raw honey and they searched the prevailing darkness earnestly.  “Oh, please let him come. I do miss him so,” she whispered.  She was still sitting there, eyes glued to the velvet beyond when her mother came to check on her.  “Darling, I’m sure it won’t be much longer now.  Be patient.  Give it another night or two.”  But even the soothing tone of her doting mom could not draw her from the vigil.  Her eyes grew heavy as if weighted with the worries of the world and her shoulders began shaking with silent sobs of a broken heart.  As she tried to pack away her disappointment in the remaining sniffles, she lifted one fragile hand and held it against the glass.  And just as she was about to wish him a good night, wherever he may be, he lighted against the tip of her index finger!  It was the first firefly of summer!!  The light from his luminescent glow could not compare to the radiance of her welcoming smile.