Colette had the kind of smile that sent boys out into the world to become men.

She didn't do it on purpose, the inspiring boys to become men part at least. Oh, she smiled all the time, certainly, but there was never any agenda behind it. She smiled to express joy, to comfort others. To comfort him. She had all kinds of smiles, ranging from encouraging grins that stretched from ear to ear to gentle, grateful smiles that were occasionally accompanied by tears. They came at random times, but always at the right times.

Though seemingly ordinary, she was different than any other girl I'd known. And I'd known many. A girl of contradictions, naive and wise, a mother who had not yet grown out of girlhood. There was a genuineness to her that made us want to move mountains in her name. All of us, not just the bedazzled boys who were slowly becoming men on this journey. We were all in this together, for whatever reasons we may or may not have spoken aloud, but at the end of a long day what good is a loved one, an ideal, a distant world? But Colette, with her sincerity never fading, kept us going. She urged us to walk that last league, to explore that last nook, to fight with every ounce of passion in our bodies. She kept us going when all hope seemed lost.

She could have powered a thousand exspheres and still had the energy to cheer us up one more time. She tripped and got wings and lost her voice and lost her soul and still we loved her, lived for her.

She had the kind of smile that would send men across oceans and over worlds and to the top of towers to die in her place.

If only she would have smiled for me. Maybe I, too, would have chosen to die in her place, than to have her die in mine.