Taking My Sparkle Back

Scholastic book fairs were always a highlight during my elementary school years. Second grade was the year when reading became a passion. 

Diving into worlds of make-believe that others created hooked me. 

Imagining the worlds that other people like me created drew me in. 

I lost myself in books.

In second grade, probably near the end of the year, the librarian at my Elementary school took me to the back wall and handed me a chapter book, The Secret Garden. She believed my reading skills were such that I could finish it in a month. I checked it out on her recommendation, but the vocabulary was far too advanced for me at that age so I returned it having only maybe read two chapters. The next time I picked it up was when I was in High School; we had moved to Ecuador and it was not readily accessible to me during those years when my reading skills improved 

In second grade my vocabulary was more on par with the words in the book The Kindles Find a Home. Like most children, the vibrant pinks and yellows on the Scholastic booklet enticed me. 

"Welcome to the magical land of the Kindles! It's a fantasy forest where music makes the honeybud trees grow. The Kindles love to sing with gladness but now an evil sorceress wants to end their happiness forever. It's up to Sparkli to lead the Kindles out of danger!"

Sparkli! Yes, this was the book for me. What 7-year-old American girl doesn't love sparkles? Seriously, what CHILD doesn't love sparkles? 

Sparkles were magic. 

I had a sparkle baton.

I'm sure my sticker book was full of sparkle stickers. 

Sparkles was a name my dolls often had in the stories I made up. 

Sparkly was the name I landed on at some point for my future daughter's name.

Sparkle ruffles lined the neck of my tumbling leotard.

Sparkles.were.magic. 

I NEEDED this book. My parents, despite our relative poverty, bought me the book. 

AND I LOVED THIS BOOK! It was everything it promised to be and I read it over and over. This is the book that defined my second-grade year. Like most of us, I outgrew this children's book. Somewhere along the way, it was lost or sold in a garage sale. Over the years I would think about it. In late May this year, it invaded my thoughts again and I went into a deep dive looking for it online, googling the premise of the book. I found it; I ordered it. 

It was as magical as I remembered. I CONTINUE TO LOVE THIS BOOK. 

I looked up my Amazon order history today and noticed I purchased it on May 30. God is always speaking, but I think we notice God's presence in retrospect. There were things in motion that were leading me to take my sparkle back; the sparkle I lost from around 1988/1989. 

In September of 1988, we moved to Ecuador. It was rough. I didn't speak Spanish, I was ripped away from the family and friends I had grown up with. My body had to acclimate to the different foods and contaminated water. I was homesick and miserable. I look back on these years as a time of transition that helped me grow as a person, and I have no resentment toward it. This move was not done out of malice, and it's an experience I look back on as a time when I learned resiliency. 

It was also an era in my life when the innocence and silliness of my childhood came to an end. 

I don't know how, or the exact date, that my sparkle baton broke. But I know it broke in Riobamba while visiting my grandparents. I still see the rippling glittery water dripping through my fingers; one half of the broken baton in my other hand. 

I didn't cry; I had been called a "crybaby" my entire childhood. 

The last vestiges of my sparkle were gone in that moment. My childhood ended. My joy was gone.

But there is always hope: Today, tomorrow and for the rest of my life, I'm taking my sparkle back