Seeing Sparkles

So I've got another confession to make ... a confession that may alienate me from some of you forever, but sometimes a gal's just gotta do what a gal's gotta do. These days, I try really hard not to say I hate anything, and I can promise you that you'll never hear me say I hate another person. My perception and understanding of the word hate has certainly changed over the last couple of years ... I will never again frivolously speak or write the word hate ... never again. I say that so that you will truly appreciate how deep my emotion runs on the rare occasion that I actually say I hate something. Which leads me to my confession ... I hate glitter. I hate glitter so much that I would place it in the category of one of the worst items ever invented. It's not only because it's sparkly and shiny and ... well ... glittery ... though that is reason enough in my book to hate the very sight of it. The huge reason I hate glitter? Because once glitter is in my car or my house or near my clothes or on my dogs (don't ask), it never ever goes away. You think it's gone ... you think you've cleaned away all the glitter, but it's just lying in wait to make its presence known. Years after you think it's gone, it's still there ... you never know when it will rear its sparkly, shiny, glittery head. Yep, I really do hate glitter.

Last weekend I took Ollie for two walks, one on Saturday when it was sunny outside and one on Sunday when it was cloudy. As seems to be the new normal for me now, I noticed something that I've never noticed before even though I've probably walked a thousand miles on the very same stretch of sidewalk. Perhaps it was the angle of the sun on Saturday or the intensity of its rays, or perhaps I've just never paid attention before ... or perhaps ... perhaps I was meant to notice what I noticed at exactly the time I was meant to notice it. The why doesn't really matter, I suppose ... what matters is the huge lesson contained within the surface below my feet, which were clad in my awesome new walking shoes, by the way. For some reason I may never know or understand, I looked down at the concrete that comprised the sidewalk and saw for the first time ... sparkles ... tons and tons and tons of sparkles. It looked as if glitter had been mixed in with the concrete ... shiny, silver, sparkling glitter that gleamed in an almost royal manner in the early morning sunlight.

"I hate glitter," I said to Ollie as we marched on. "Why would anyone want glitter in concrete?"

As I mentioned, Sunday was one of those gray, cloudy days that makes me want to snuggle into my bed and not leave the house. OK ... OK ... me wanting to hibernate last Sunday really had nothing at all to do with the weather and everything to do with my state of mind. Ollie being Ollie, however, pawed and whined and tried to lick my face until I caved in and got dressed, and took him for a walk. We had been walking for a half-hour or so when I again looked at the sidewalk where we were walking and immediately noticed that the sparkles were gone.

"Where the heck did the glitter go, Oliver? Where the heck did it go?" I asked my canine hoofing buddy as he looked up at me as I stopped to stare at the sparkle-less concrete. "You can't just unglitter concrete, wiener dog ... where did it disappear to?" 

The questions had no more than left my lips when I suddenly understood the intense meaning, the incredible truth, the overwhelming lesson I was meant to glean from the gray and lifeless cement upon which we walked. The sparkles didn't go anywhere ... the glitter that had shone so vividly the day before beneath the light of the sun was still there. Every single sparkle I had seen the day before was still within the concrete ... the sparkles were still there waiting for the sun to shine again and reveal their beauty once again ... the sparkles weren't gone at all, they were merely covered by the grayness of the day. I realized something else as I walked along the sidewalk last night ... the glitter in the concrete doesn't sparkle in the darkness of night either ... the sparkles only shine and shimmer in the light of the sun. As Ollie and I made our way home in the dark last night, I knew that I would never look at that sidewalk the same way again ... never ever.

See, here's the thing ... I'm the concrete ... I'm the flipping concrete, friends. I need to remember that I've got glitter inside of me ... I need to remember that even in the darkest of nights or on the grayest of days, the sparkles are still there. The sparkles are always there ... all they need is a little bit of sunlight to make them shine. And you know what I believe? I believe we should be the sunlight for each other ... we should help each other find our glitter ... we should applaud the sparkles we see in each other. Maybe, just maybe, we'd all sparkle a little brighter ... a little longer ... a little greater if we'd be the sunlight for each other. 

Hmmm ... maybe glitter isn't such a bad thing after all. Sparkle on, friends ... sparkle on.