Good morning, everyone. :)
I hope you’re having a lovely day so far. My day is going nicely, so far on track. It’s one of those days, like yesterday and tomorrow, where I’ve packed as much as I can, back to back like train cars, taking me here and there, and I’m either a passenger or an outlaw, keeping pace until I’ve run out of steam and it’s time for early sleep.
The other day something special happened to me. I was having one of those days where you’re shown and notice many tiny, shimmering signs, those messages from the universe that let you know you’re on a forward, upward track - that everything, wayward as it seems, is going to be alright and is just as it should be.
At the end of the message delivery day, I was walking home just after twilight, and as I passed by the Italian restaurant on the corner, a firefly hovered in front of me, yellow-green, lighting the way. I paused then carefully, as he seemed to clumsily lose his path in the denim trunks of my legs. I waited a little, expecting him to emerge, and when he did not, assuming he had found his way and moved on, I moved on, too. I walked the rest of the way home, climbed the front stairs, entered the doorway, and walked inside, leaving the outside world behind. Or so I thought.
I turned on the lights, walked into the kitchen, and readying myself to unload the groceries, I opened my tote bag, when out he flew!! He had stowed away like a fugitive on a hopper wagon and come home with me. Feeling in that moment the total elasticity of time, wanting to remember this magical experience always, I turned off the lights and watched in awe as a lightning bug calmly and cooly floated about, offering me a private viewing of his radiating green light. I wanted it to last forever, but I knew he was happier somewhere outside. So after a little while, and after filming a little video, to watch later and share with my mom and some friends, I covered him gently with a glass from the pantry, thanked him for everything he had done for me, and brought him outside. Hoping for one last light, a nod of communication or confirmation that he had found his way, I waited, but I didn’t see one. I assumed he had really found his way this time, and I closed the door and turned in for the night.
Fireflies. Lightning bugs. They’ve been a prize of conversation lately. In the news for disappearing from our world, back in the news for populating the parks and streets of NYC, as though they’ve all come here for a visit, a vacation, to start a new life amongst the sparkling skyscrapers and neon signs that might seem like distant cousins or strange ancient relations. I thought so much about that recent visitation, about the magic and wonder instilled in me from it, the blessing it felt like, the imagination and energy it brought me. I thought then about people, about people who make me feel that way. I thought about people whose presence has the opposite effect.
Why Fireflies are everywhere this summer: Popular Science article July 21, 2025
There are people in my life who are like lightning bugs. When I am with them, I feel a sense of transportation in stillness, where we’ve boarded a strange spaceship and launched somewhere far, without planning, without noticing, without acknowledging it out loud. It just happens, and it doesn’t even happen fast. You feel things while they’re gradually shifting, or notice yourself dissolving after departure has occurred, unexpectedly or as a reoccurring theme between you. And then after you say goodbye, you feel as though you’re held within some strange solution of magic gelatin. It’s hard to describe but you know it when it happens. You know it when it doesn’t, too.
You know the sensation I’m talking about. And I know I want to take this more seriously than ever. I want to lean into those magic gelatin connections. We need to live more attentively within the strange solution. I want to take care of my lightning bug friends. To fly and float as often as we can. Just as they are increasingly rare in nature, they too are rare in human existence, in society. It’s lucky to have one. If you have one, if you have any, remember how rare they are. It doesn’t mean you need to grab a mason jar and keep it held captive, to stare at its light until it loses its breath and will. It doesn’t even mean you have to chase it, look for it, follow it around wherever it goes. But it does mean you have to appreciate it, move with it, let its light glow upon your face, and remind it how glad you are to be present in its beauty, in its perfect and otherworldly simplicity.
This is a reminder of the wonder and possibilities of life. And this is a reminder that if you are reading this post, I’m pretty sure you are one of these magic lightning bugs.
Take care of yourselves and each other.
Having a glowing and beautiful day today. :)
Thank you so much Jesse, this is all so beautifully written. Hope you're doing well. Fireflies were very common to see in the backyard when I was a child. It was such a joy to see. Now they have completely disappeared from our cities. Thank you for sharing these images of your gentle little friend. I've never seen one ever since. Gentleness and frailty, these are the words that come to my mind in reading this. Much to contemplate, thank you Jesse! Love from Italy ✨🐝💛
Love this post to start my day:)
Your telling of your interaction with the firefly delivers a strong metaphor for us all. The firefly's ability to create its own light in the dark reminds us of our ability to do likewise and reach for our inner strength (light) in challenging times.
They also remind us, due to their brief existence, of the precious nature of every moment and the importance of embracing it. I am glad you captured its journey on camera:)