You guys ought to know me well enough by now. I’m not a FB questionnaire, game, and meme etc. type of poster. Being called out to post five photos that I think show I am beautiful isn’t going to happen. Not because I’m a non-compliant asshole, I mean, I am, but mostly because I feel beautiful in the way I am looked at, or a feeling I get when someone I love looks at or speaks to me. My most beautiful moments are simply photos in my memory. When that tiny person you created looks at you with trust, love and gets a twinkle in their eyes right before being naughty or they rush to you for comfort when they are scared, or hurt, when they look up with big ol’ eyes and blurt out an “I love you, Mommy!” right before smashing cheese puffs into your new couch. It’ll explode your heart - so beautiful. When you get a kiss on the bridge of your nose, or your forehead, when someone gently strokes your face or places your hair behind your ear, reaches out for your hand as you walk or lay beside one another, or your eyes meet and no words are needed – that to me is beautiful. When my father ran down the packed traffic-stalled street the day I was hit by a car, calling my name, bawling, only to see me declared dead, covered up at the scene of the accident where he dropped to his knees praying and sobbing – heartbreakingly beautiful. (And that is a photo I have from my sisters and cousins stories of that day. But, I can see it as though it is a beautiful photograph.) Cupping my face in her hands, chin quivering, tears welled up in her blue eyes, my dying mother said, “Life is going to happen… if I’m here or not. You have to live. It’s okay. I’ll be fine, honey. See you tomorrow. I love you.” Beautiful.
Posted on: Thu, 17 Jul 2014 12:57:58 +0000