It's pouring outside, and streaks of lightning fall from the black blanket that hovers above us. The power goes out. Our first instinct is to cluster around a candle, or perhaps wrestle for a flashlight, right? We need light, but what happens when there isn't any? It's simple, we make it.

Last month, a classmate of mine received a "package". Inside was a bullet labeled "Death", and the mailer behind it was his classmate. In simpler terms, he got shot. Twice. However, it wasn't a school shooting- because it didn't happen on school grounds, but it still left our high school crying in the dark.

To me, the victim was a stranger. I had only seen him once or twice during passing period. But to others, he was a friend so dear to their hearts, that crying for his death couldn't sum half of what he meant to them.

For the two weeks that followed, facebook statuses, events, and ceremonies were being posted in frenzy. But that was on the Internet.

At school, it was quite different. Girls and boys gathered in groups to mourn, and even I, who'd never spoken to him before, cried over his family’s loss. And naturally, the suspect behind his death was all on everyone's minds, but nobody talked about it openly. I was surprised that even now, gossip ran rampant. Kleenex boxes and tissues were scarce in every classroom, and even teachers were speechless. For them, planning period became a waste of time, because so few students bothered to write notes in biology or even read their classic in English.
But because this tragic event happened, our class of 400-some students became a community, who understood each others feelings and emotions better than our parents. We were a mixed variety of students who came together in the time of darkness, and created a circle that glowed with unity and togetherness. And that was the miracle.

I had never imagined that a high school so full of drama, jealousy, hatred, and competition could ever support a group of teenagers through a dark time. And now 2 weeks later, the lights are back on, and we disperse back into our own private lives, again. More so, the glow of unity is gone, and so is the miracle.

But sometimes, I have to overcome a miracle and realize that it's just a once in a lifetime event. Maybe, that's why it's rare when miracles do happen.