Flicker was a very small firefly. All the other fireflies in Meadowbrook had bright, strong glows. But Flicker’s light was…well, flickery. Sometimes it was bright, sometimes dim, and sometimes it almost disappeared! He worried his light wasn’t good enough, especially when he flew with his father, Old Man Fitzwilliam, whose glow was the brightest in the whole meadow.
Every evening, Old Man Fitzwilliam would take Flicker on a flight around Meadowbrook. Flicker loved these flights, but he always felt a little sad. He’d try to shine as brightly as his father, but it just didn’t happen. “I wish I could glow like you, Papa,” Flicker sighed one night.
Old Man Fitzwilliam chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound. “Oh, Flicker,” he said gently, “your light is special just the way it is. It’s not about *how* bright you glow, but *that* you glow.”
Flicker didn’t understand. “But everyone else’s lights are so steady and strong! Mine feels…unreliable.” He dimmed his light almost completely, feeling embarrassed.
Old Man Fitzwilliam slowed down and landed on a large dandelion. “Look around, Flicker,” he said. “See Old Man Tiber, the beetle? He’s having trouble seeing his way home. His eyes aren’t as good as they used to be.”
Flicker looked. Old Man Tiber was indeed stumbling along. Then, Flicker noticed something amazing. His flickery light, as it blinked on and off, caught Old Man Tiber’s attention! The beetle followed Flicker’s light, slowly but surely, until he reached his cozy burrow.
“Your light wasn’t *steady*, Flicker,” Old Man Fitzwilliam explained, “but it was *noticeable*. It helped Old Man Tiber when he needed it most. Sometimes, being different is exactly what makes you special.”
Flicker’s light began to glow a little brighter. He flew over to a patch of sleepy wildflowers. A little ladybug was lost and couldn’t find her mother. Flicker’s blinking light guided the ladybug right back to her momma.
“See?” Old Man Fitzwilliam said, beaming. “Your light isn’t just a light, Flicker. It’s a helper light! It’s a guiding light! It’s *your* light.”
Flicker finally understood. He didn’t need to glow like his father. He needed to glow like *Flicker*. He flew beside Old Man Fitzwilliam, his light blinking happily. He realized his father wasn’t proud of a bright, steady glow, but of the kind and helpful firefly he was becoming.
As they flew back towards home, Flicker snuggled close to his father. He felt warm and loved, and his light shone with a confidence he hadn’t felt before. Old Man Fitzwilliam wrapped a wing around Flicker. “I love you, my little flicker,” he whispered. And Flicker knew, with all his heart, that his father’s love shone brighter than any light in Meadowbrook.