Last week, my son came down with a cold. Just a runny nose, a little cough, the usual tired eyes and extra snuggles that come with it.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt thankful for a cold.

It’s strange to say that. Most parents groan when they hear the first sniffle or the first, “Mom, my throat hurts.” But as soon as I realized he was just sick with something normal, something so ordinary and forgettable, I felt this wave of gratitude wash over me. Because in our house, “normal” hasn’t existed for a while.

Our normal has become cancer. 

Even writing those words still feels unreal — like they belong to someone else’s story. But this is our reality. Her fevers aren’t from colds. Her exhaustion isn’t from staying up too late. Her hospital visits aren’t for the usual bumps and bruises of childhood — they’re for chemotherapy, scans, and lab work.

So when my son caught a cold, I found myself almost relieved. His cough reminded me of what childhood is supposed to look like — the small, inconvenient, forgettable illnesses that pass in a few days with rest, soup, and cuddles. It reminded me that most kids get colds, not cancer.

It struck me how upside-down our sense of “normal” had become. In our world lately, every symptom feels heavy, every ache or fever comes with worry. But his cold was a quiet, gentle reminder of what’s typical, what’s healthy, what’s ordinary.

And as I started the broth for chicken soup and gave him another spoonful of honey, I felt a lump in my throat. Because for a brief moment, I could step out of the fear and grief that cancer brings, and remember what it feels like to parent through something simple — something that doesn’t require a team of doctors or a calendar full of treatments. Something I knew how to fix.

I never thought I’d be grateful for a cold.

But I am.

Because it reminded me of what we’re fighting for — the chance for all of my children to live lives full of the normal, the mundane, the beautiful everyday moments that most people take for granted.

Colds, scraped knees, messy rooms, teenage moods — all of it.

So yes, I’m thankful for a cold.

Because it reminded me what normal feels like. And more than anything, it reminded me of hope.