Though the photo might have been blurry and taken with the most inexpert of hands, it perennially resided in his pocket, decades later. In quiet moments, he studiously pulled it out, fingering the edges of the one true memory of his life. He saw the still image of the smile in the picture in his hand and knew that the universe, even for a fleeting moment, had dripped with magic.
It was enough, always, no matter how difficult the day, to replenish him.
He stepped away from us one day, casually but with finality, to find the smile once again, hoping with full heart that those he left behind had found even the smallest connection to both fleeting youth and fulfillment.
May this be enough, always.