April 19th, 2014. Doesn't look like much. I'd been in a pretty dark hole for a few years. It was all I could do to get out of bed and go to work. My poor husband (we were still in our first year of marriage), he didn't know what to do with me and so desperately wanted to help pull me out of the hole. But I needed an internal defibrillator. It hit about as hard as the static discharge you get when petting the cat, small, but enough to wake up the nerve endings. My wanderlust beckoned me to the harbor town of Ashtabula. I didn't know much about it except that it was a bit run down. This incredible technology we hold in our hands led me to the local coffee shop where I enjoyed reading for a little while. I finished my coffee and decided to try my hand at hunting beachglass. My coworkers said it was "the thing to do" when up at the lake. So I followed my phone to a very small public beach where I found these pieces, like tiny gems. Although I later came to learn that the red piece in the picture was a fraud (just some plastic marauding as the rare, elusive, and highly coveted red beachglass), I had no idea that these tiny broken and half-buffed shards were sent to rescue me from the depths of the depressive hole in which I had slept almost four years of my life away.