Short Story - Fireflies - Grant Eagar

On Neighbors 

         
The Fireflies                                 
            We remember when the kids were little and the times we would go on long Sunday walks. The kids would run about chasing fire flies and we felt like we were surrounded by angels. We had dreams of their futures, what they would one day become.  We had the conviction that if we raised them the best we were able, everything would turn out alright.            Fast forward twenty years - the children have all been bitten and infected by the demons of our day; alcoholism, drug abuse, divorce, mental illness, and autism. We try to suck the venom from their seeping wounds and love them the best we are able. Occasionally we roar and yell at them, but that doesn’t make the sickness and the pain go away. We avoid the ‘I told you so’s and stick to safe topics of conversion while a small part of us dies as our dreams for them fade into the distance. These dreams are replaced by their own dreams. Since they are the ones who must bear the consequences of their choices, they must make those choices.             We are all broken - when we were young we were concerned with those who had failed us, but as we grow older we are now concerned with those whom we have failed. The price we must pay for our own selfishness.            The grand kids come and we hug them, play ball with them, play ring around the roses with them, tell them stories, and hold them.  For a moment we are young again surrounded by our little ones and we experience the joy once again of raising children.          

           Then we smile - things are turning out, but just not how we had planned. 



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