She lay quietly beside me, her white-blonde curls cascading
across the pillow like coils of silk, my heart throbbing gratitude in my
chest. We’d read our handpicked stories
(Winnie the Pooh and an antiquated Golden Book); we’d waited beneath the fringed
green afghan for the nap to come.
When she buried her face in one of my arms, and I encircled her with the
other, her eyes finally closed and her little body lay still. Her breath smelled sweet in my
face.
Oh-so-slowly I pulled myself away and slipped off the bed,
careful to not disturb Sleeping Beauty. She need not say or do anything to
merit the title, just BE. Finally standing, I reveled in her stunning loveliness.
How true for us all, I thought...how we worship beauty and long to be beautiful! If only we might learn to see each
other as children wearing grown-up clothes, little beauties who have forgotten
or run away from this…exquisiteness…and are trying so hard to convince
ourselves and each other of innate value that has been there all along.
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