A single green sequin sits on the floor in my office, just below the chair where visitors sit. Who left behind that shiny sequin?
Was it the student seeking help on the paper due tomorrow, who admitted that he'd intended to work on it over break but forgot to take home power cord for his laptop computer and so put it off until today? He'd be more likely to leave behind a pork rind than a sequin.
What about the colleague who came in early this morning to ask a question and show me her new rubber duck? She was wearing spectacularly colorful socks but no sequins.
Then there was the student who plopped her backpack down in that spot and then proceeded to pull out one massive text after another--it seemed like a Mary Poppins backpack, capable of comfortably containing a floor lamp, a disco ball, and a Harley Davidson. The magic backpack could have accidentally disgorged a sequined ball gown big enough to clothe a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon portraying Miss Piggy.
Or maybe the sequin hitched a ride to my office on someone's shoe. Does it matter?
Whatever its source, I welcome the unexpected spot of color on an otherwise gray day. In fact, I ought to pick up the sequin and save it for the next time I need to add a little sparkle to my life. But--where did it go?
Maybe it walked out the same way it walked in. Good bye, little green sequin! May you bring a glint of light into someone else's life.