Her name was Dawn.
The teenager who changed my life and taught me you can find something to smile about anywhere, anytime. The girl that showed me her inner self, her inner "wow".
But first, how I met her:
    "Volunteers, please report to the recreational center for your duties for the week. I repeat, volunteers to the rec center immediately." The intercom crackled and hissed.
    I glanced at my watch and frowned. So early for my duties! Only eight thirteen. I picked up my small pink Prada tote and humming Tim McGraw, one of my favorite country songs by Taylor Swift, obediently found my way through the Children's Hospital. Getting lost is one of my habits, but I was speed-walking, so I hoped I'd get to the rec office in time. I wondered what would await me.
    I was one of the first volunteers to arrive; at least that was what I thought. Among the few people standing quietly next to me were one boy and two other girls. The head of recreational services nodded at us. To my surprise, he said, "Now that you are all here," he shot a fleeting look at me (oops!), "I want to assign you hospital territories you seem familiar with according to your applications. For instance, Emilio, you will be working in the newborns' wing because you help out at home with your twin sisters." The boy to the right of me gave a slight bob of his head.
    "Now I will pass out your duty sheet and you may begin your day of spreading hope to all those around you." The smiling bald man who was our supervisor distributed sheets of paper.
    I received my jobs. I was to go to the Rheumatology clinic, where many of the children, like me, were confirmed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis, or simply known as JRA. I only had three patients to visit for today. On a closer look, I could see that a lot of my "patients" were ones I had almost every day.
    My first visit was to a five-year-old boy named Justin. As I entered the room 202, I felt cheerful. The little boy was busy playing toy cars. His neck was in a cast, but he still wheeled the Hot Wheels cars along happily.
    "Oh! Hello." He looked a little surprised when he finally decided to look up from his game. He adjusted his glasses and grinned at me.
    "Hi, I'm Chrissi. Good morning and how are you doing?" I spoke in my friendlest voice. I chose a spot on a chair close to the adorable boy, and extended my hand. He shook it, and I felt his tiny stiff hand, finger joints a bit tight. Oh, I thought, he must have been affected with JRA in his hands. For a slight moment I recalled the years ago when I myself had rigid joints in my right hand and how it was hard to move my fingers. I felt a pang of sadness for Justin. My fingers were okay now. I hoped Justin's would get better from his medicine, too.
    The rest of my time with Justin Nestor was all spent by reading to him and acting out stories with the felt puppets he'd gotten from various doctors.
    Soon it was my time to go and his time to rest. "See you in two days, Justin. Be good," I said goodbye while I enveloped him in a big bear hug. He shyly pecked my face with a sweet childish kiss as he said bye.
    I looked down at my schedule sheet. The next room trip was quite a ways from Room 202, where I was at currently. I went down an assortment of hallways, up flights of stairs, and got lost many times before I finally knocked on Tim Russo's room door.
    "Go away!" A loud strained voice of no emotion called out to me.
    "It's Chrissi, and I'd like to spend some time with you," I said, unsure, wavering. I immediately regretted what I'd said. What I sounded like was some kind of counselor. Oops.
    "Fine. Come in if you wanna. But I'm not gonna talk to you, or anybody else." The boy's voice sounded like he had tried to sound gruff but finally had to give in.
    I pasted a smile on my face and opened the door. A boy a bit older than me, maybe of fifteen or sixteen years of age sat in a wheelchair as he looked out the window. As far as I was concerned, there didn't seem to be anything wrong about him except his attitude. However there was a cast on his left leg. I tried talking to Tim a couple times but every try of mine had gotten no response. We sat in silence for almost two hours.
    "Okay, Tim? My time's up with you for the day but I'll be back tomorrow, okay? I hope to see you get better. Bye." I brushed his shoulder and he looked up.
    "Sorry. I was in a bad mood today." It was almost as if he hadn't spoken at all: because he took to staring out the window right after.
    "It's okay, Tim. I'll be back," I answered, and left the Room 437 for the last patient of the day.
    As I headed toward Room 456, I thought about what a nice day today had been. Justin was a very charming five-year-old and Tim was rather reclusive, but he seemed like a nice teenager, and it seemed so kind how he'd cared about my feelings. And now, I thought, who awaits me next? I peeked at my list and read my following patient: Dawn Pierre. A girl after two boys will be a nice change, even though boys can be sweet. Sometimes.
    I opened the door and stepped inside. Before I could say anything, the girl who lay on the hospital bed turned off her iPod speakers, smiled broader, and looked up. She waved and said, "Hi, I'm Dawn. Would you like fries with that?"
    I was a bit shocked by her vitality and energy, especially since I'd spent over an hour with Tim-the-withdrawn-boy. But I quickly remembered my manners and replied, "Well, I do like French fries, but I'm okay for now." From familiarity, my right hand shot out as if to say hello. Dawn didn't seem to notice my hand. Then I noticed the vacant look in her eyes. She was blind.
    I tried to finish my introduction without feeling so stupid. "Uh, I'm Chrissi. I'm just about your age, I think, and what's cool is that I get to see you every day of the summer. I can't wait to get to know you."
    "Me, too! I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm blind from a flare-up of my JRA and I've been that way since I was two. So I'm used to it." This time Dawn extended her own hand for me to shake.
    Then she played a song on her iPod speakers. I'd heard it before but never really discovered the true meaning of it until today. The song was called Fully Alive, a Flyleaf song.
    Telling Layla's story spoken. ..She's glad for one day of comfort, only because she has suffered. Fully alive, more than most ready to smile, and love life...
    When it played itself to its end, Dawn told me about herself. She was fourteen and had been diagnosed with JRA at age one. Because there was a study on the possibility of reversing eye problems from the cause of rheumatoid, Dawn was currently staying at the hospital to be studied.
    "I really want to help others who want their sight back get it back, I really do. But I'd rather stay blind, so that's why there won't be any operation on me. I guess I'll still be helping them find a way out in this gooey mess though." She smiled without looking at me and she focused into the distance almost-almost wistfully, one might say. She looked so thoughtful right then I really didn't want to disturb her. I was content just to see her so happy in making others happy.
    Then while I was thinking about Dawn and how blissfully easy life seemed to be for her, I stumbled upon a thought. I wasn't happy. My life wasn't exactly the greatest...but then I reminisced on Dawn's life. She had been sightless all her life so far and would probably stay that way. She couldn't work her knees very well. Who wasn't to say that I had a much better life than her, and-
    "Chrissi, is there something wrong? I can just sense some gloom here. Can I help?" Dawn sounded timid but underneath it all I knew she was hurting because I was sad.
    "No, no. There isn't-" I frowned and flicked away a teardrop that had somehow made it past my good "security officers". "Oh! Can you believe I was, as a volunteer, supposed to come and cheer up and spread hope to patients? I don't even know why I signed up for this job."
    "It's okay. Friends are here to show each other the light." Dawn's soft hand patted mine.
    I gave her a hug, and said, "It's just I was thinking about how my life is so good compared to yours and I was complaining. And now when you really think about it, my complaints are really nothing. Nothing, at least when compared to the complaints you could be hissing at the world right now. I mean, seriously, I feel so guilty. And you always smile, even when it seems like there's nothing to smile about. I mean, I smile too, but my smiles are phony. Your smiles are so real, and full of-what's the right word?-life. You're so full of life."
    Dawn wiped a tear that had just begun to trickle down her face. "That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard about me. Thanks, Chrissi."
    We sat together, curled up on her bed, in peace, listening to the words of Fully Alive.
    "Sometimes I think that song was made about you, not Layla." I smiled at my new friend.
    Dawn smiled back (it was almost as if she knew I was smiling), and she held my hand and said, "There is no better reason to smile than friendship. And even the smallest things that seem like they're out to make your day worse you can smile about how those pests won't get to ya."
    I'll never get over being amazed by that fourteen-year-old girl's words, wise for her age. But then again, what can you expect? She's been through so much you can hardly say she's young anymore. I'll especially never ever get over being amazed by Dawn Pierre's inner wow