There were two days left of year two thousand and fourteen. The illuminating lamps had been extinguished and we sat at the river’s edge waiting impatiently for the slightest sign of sunrise which would signify our retirement to bed.
The two of us were seated a few feet away from the grpup so as to avoid the carcinogenic breath of our companions. I was murderously pulling at tiny blades of grass when you handed me a tiny glow stick no bigger than the size of half my pinky.
“Let’s throw them in the water and see if they glow!” I eagerly snaped the stick to rouse the glowing agents within the plastic tube. Then we threw it in.
The murky body of water seemed to swallow it whole. Just as we were about to lose hope, that tiny glow stick rose to the surface in it’s neon splendor.
I go back to December all the time and your face is a familiar in every memorable moment.
You’re a lot like that glow stick. You’ve been bent and broken and tossed into the ocean of obstacles. Yet in the face of adversity you continue to glow brighter than anyone I know. You gave me that glistening glow stick; that tiny tint of hope in the dark backdrop of dawn.
You light up the lives of everyone around you and I hope you know what an inspiration you are to me.
_Quixotic Novelist
Quixotic Novelist 