I was bustling about. Full scene. Busy morning. When a friend tapped pause. Took my hand. Sought my eyes and offered the unanticipated.

“You are beautiful.”

How long had it been? How long will it be? That stretch between?

How long has it been since someone held your hand and your eyes and spoke your beauty with deep sincerity?

Tears sprung unannounced.

Yours?

Do your eyes fill? Do witty words of dismissal reflexively load? A free-flowing fountain of flaws?

Here, too. But this time. I didn’t bat beautiful away. I held it gently like an heirloom china cup I’d not think to toss upon the floor. And whispered thank you.

Here, take my hand. Let your eyes meet mine. You are beautiful.

You are beautiful.

And this time? Let the infinite rebuttals go unspoken even within the chambers of your own heart.

Three true words. Let them bloom anew this spring?

For a thousand reasons. Beautiful.