The Thirtieth Candle.

Once there was a boy who played with a handful of pebbles by the stream.

Each pebble was different — one sparkled, another was dull and gray — but to him, they were all treasures.

He did not yet know that those pebbles were the years, slowly gathering in his palm. Time passed, and the boy became a man.

One day, as he stood again by the stream, he found not a handful of pebbles, but thirty. Each one told a story.

Some were heavy, carrying the weight of pain or loss.

Some were bright, born from joy and triumph.

And some were almost weightless, yet still brought a smile to his face — tiny moments that seemed small,

but in truth, were the ones that gave life its light.

Then the man understood:

it was not the beauty of the pebbles that mattered,

but the path they marked.

From each, he had learned something —

strength from the heavy ones, hope from the bright,

and gratitude from the light.

As he let the pebbles fall into the flowing water,

he watched how the sunlight danced upon them.

And in that moment, he realized:

life's worth is not measured by how many stones we gather,

but by how we let them go — so their light might shimmer on in the lives of others.

Now, at the thirtieth candle, the truest gift is not what he receives,

but what he leaves behind: 

memories, love, and the quiet certainty that each year is another pebble — one that may one day become someone else's treasure.

Message to my son, Gábor:

Thirty years is not an ending, but a new beginning.

The pebbles of the past already shine behind you, resting in the streambed,

but ahead lie so many more — so much light, so much love still waiting.

Let this thirtieth candle be the proof that hope, faith, and love can always be rekindled — in you, and in us, who walk beside you.