“Chasing Fireflies: What My Grandson Taught Me About Living Again”

For the last few years, I’ve been living in a tunnel—one lined with appointment reminders, medication schedules, and constant reminders of my condition. MS has a way of quietly becoming the main character in your life, even when you don’t mean for it to. I thought I was doing the right thing by focusing all my energy on managing it. I wanted to stay ahead of the curve, to fight it with everything I had. But somewhere along the way, I stopped living and started just managing.

Then something changed. I went on a family trip.

It wasn’t a bucket-list getaway. It wasn’t a fancy resort or a spiritual retreat. It was time with my grandson. And what I witnessed in those few days shook me awake more than any medication or motivational speech ever could.

I watched him discover fireflies for the first time.

To him, these tiny glowing bugs were magic. Every evening, as the sun dipped below the trees, he waited with such joy and anticipation for the first flicker of light. And when it came—when the fireflies danced across the yard—he chased them with a laughter so pure it cracked something open in me.

He didn’t care about anything except the moment.

And then, a day or two later, I saw his eyes light up watching a caterpillar transform into a butterfly. Not just looking at it—but watching it. Not rushing. Not scrolling. Not planning what’s next. Just present.

I realized then how much I had lost in my own chasing. Chasing labs. Chasing answers. Chasing control. And in doing so, I’d stopped chasing the fireflies.

MS is still part of my life. That hasn’t changed. But it’s not all of my life. I want to live again—not just exist between appointments. I want to feel the wonder, be in the backyard at dusk, and witness the world through the eyes of a child.

That moment reminded me: healing isn’t always about fighting harder. Sometimes, it’s about softening. About being still enough to see what’s right in front of you.

Sometimes, healing is about letting go of needing to fix everything, and instead allowing yourself to be amazed again.

Just like my grandson, waiting for the fireflies.