My dear shining, streaming, flashing and sparkling light. You lit up the night like one of those falling stars that take a few seconds to get across the empty sky in August. Ones that you are not sure about. Ones that look dangerous enough to collide with Earth and destroy everyone in a splashing explosion. Ones that always simmer out when you least expect it and secretly hope that they fell somewhere on a shore by the ocean, with only the white foam as witness.
I will always love you. You will always have my heart. I will always secretly hope that you show up at my door at 8 am on a weekend with Tabitha in one hand and bottle of Champagne in other, giggling like you do. I will always be dancing, like you taught me “making the figure 8” with my hips biting my lip and trying hard not to mess up at Bachata steps.