You're Kind and You're Beautiful, Too

A stranger told me today that I have beautiful skin. I wish I could tell you about how deep this is. I can't, but if I could, you'd understand that when she said "beautiful" I broke apart in an ancient way. Beautiful? Here I am. Beautiful.

She said something about "no makeup" and "no wrinkles" and "glowing" - she looked right in my eyes. I loved her endlessly for a few pure moments. I felt bare-footed on the firstday. I felt like nothing had ever been over. I felt a little closer to whole. And, don't get me wrong, it's not because she thinks I'm pretty. Don't mistake what I'm saying for "pretty". Please. She wasn't seeing that.

She was seeing contentment. And a human who was brave enough to shed the anxieties that clouded a pink heart. She was seeing cotton candy. And deep breaths. She was seeing New Mexico, braided hair and dirty fingernails. She knew me for a moment.

She knew it all without even knowing.
I thanked her, and tried to express with skinny words how she made gravity a little less, but she didn't get it.

She didn't get it. But I get it, guys. I do.