“Daddy always said that every night the lake glows like this because of how happy it is.” Cari said. 
I looked quizzically at her, having a hard time believing the tall, authoritative man I had met earlier could say anything like that.
“He said that it spends all day listening to the sounds of the trees growing, the sounds of children playing, the sounds of birds and fish, and it’s so happy at the end of the day, that it glows.” She smiled gently and put her hand in the water. 
“But I know that’s not true.” She said quietly, pulling her hand out abruptly. “Because I learned at school that it’s the algae that glows, just like our lamps. And besides,” She said, standing up and telling the boat to move again, “It glows even on sad days.”


From a work in progress I'm co-writing.