Catching Fireflies

I don't really remember much.  All I have left are a few fleeting memories of that time.  I must have been only two or three, because my brother wasn't born yet.  At least, not from what I can tell.  It was night.  We were camping somewhere with a cabin that had two bunk beds in it.  My dad had brought his guitar and we were sitting around the campfire singing camp songs.  I think we may have been on a church trip or something, because I vaguely remember a few kids sitting there with us.  There may have been more.  That would make sense since my parents both were involved in youth ministry when I was young.

That's not the main thing I think about, though.  What I remember most strongly is a time right before we lit the fire, or right after it went out.  It was dark all around, but I could see the outlines of the trees surrounding me.  I had hold of my mom's hand.  Then, she pointed something out to me.  It was a small little light floating a few feet away.  I was mesmerized.  I had never seen anything like it.  What kind of magic was this?  I don't think I could understand what my mother said, but she brought out a jar and showed me how to capture the lights.  After we had a fair amount, we must have let them go because the next thing I know is I crawled into one of the bunks next to my mom.  She turned the lantern off and I fell asleep.