Fireflies at nighttime

I'd never noticed how beautiful the fireflies were. I always admired them, but not to the extent to which I do now. I was hiking in the woods as the night had just begun to close in, and I saw them, little orbs of yellow light floating amongst the trees. I began trying to catch them. I simply lifted my hand to where they were flying, and one would land on me for a few seconds, accompanying me on my journey, before flying away. I laughed at what I saw as their playfulness. They seemed friendly, but had adventures to go on, so they didn't want to remain stationary for long. The next time I admired them was the following night, while I was sitting in the passenger seat of the car as my dad drove me home from my grandparents' house. It was darker that time. The roads we drove on were lined with trees and I could see glitter scattered throughout the leaves. I rolled my window all the way down and brought my face close so I could feel the wind. I could see them even more clearly then, and I was filled with a joy I hadn't felt in a very long time. They looked to me like fallen stars, and I speculated that they were the souls of our loved ones, trying to make us smile once more. I thought of the way people often catch them and keep them in a jar. This saddened me. I didn't think it was right to keep the beautiful wanderers confined in a glass container, wishing they could return to the forest and illuminate the shadows, but finding that they could not go back. It seemed selfish to me that someone would keep that beauty to themselves, rather than letting it run free so that the world can look upon it in awe.