There’s something magical about a summer night, the hum of crickets, the smell of freshly cut grass in the air; the world feels just a little more alive under the stars. And then, there are fireflies, tiny flickers of light that appear just after dusk, blinking in and out of the twilight like nature's own Morse code.
If you’ve ever chased them - barefoot in the backyard, jar in hand, laughter spilling out into the warm night air - you know that fireflies are more than just insects. They’re memories made visible. They’re the magic of childhood, the wonder of small things, the way time slows for a moment and lets you feel weightless.
Like most beautiful things, they don’t stay long.
Catching fireflies is a ritual in holding on, not trapping, but treasuring. You cup them gently in your palms, feel the tickle of their tiny legs, see the faint glow through your fingers, and then, hopefully, you let them go. That’s the part we often forget, the letting go. The best things in life ask to be held lightly. Joy. Time. People. Moments.
There’s a quiet kind of wisdom in those evenings spent chasing light, that nothing lasts forever, and that’s what makes it beautiful. You may have noticed Center staff has been a little off, a bit distracted lately. Our small agency has been blindsided by the loss of our dear friend and colleague, Kelly Chandler. You can read a fleeting record of her life in the obituary on display at The Center. Much like a firefly, her bright light blinked off in what feels like an instant. She leaves behind a young family and many friends and loved ones, reminding us to remember fondly what was, but also teaching us to live more fully now. To stop scrolling, step outside, and look up. To grab the hand of someone we love and run barefoot through the grass before the summer fades.
Have you seen claims circulating on social media that people alive now might be the last generation to witness the glowing displays of fireflies? Scientists say that firefly populations are rapidly declining across the globe. However, there is a bright spot of hope for firefly conservation, and they are doing well in places where they are protected. Fireflies will hopefully be around for generations to come, and it is a good lesson that you should not believe everything you read on the internet, but many of us notice that there is truth to the statement that they are not as abundant as in years past or the days of our youth.
So maybe the fireflies are telling us something. Not just about memory or magic or even light, but about presence, about savoring the now. Because right now, the world is blinking, softly. And if we don’t pause to notice, we might miss it.
We will hold on to the memory of our friend and be reminded to hold on, gently, to what we have while we have it.
During these summer months, venture outside to look for the flickering light of a firefly, or lightening bug or glow-worm, if that’s how you know them, and reflect on the best things in life, past and present - joy, time, people, and moments.
