There is Beauty All Around

I have a confession to make.

I love beauty. The sparkle of morning dew on the blush of rose petals. The carefully crafted color palette of an impressionist painting. The perfect lines achieved by professional dancers. The simple smiles of small children. These things are all beautiful and I stare unabashedly.

Here's where it gets tricky. There are some people who really are just more beautiful than others. I appreciate them like I appreciate beautiful paintings. I try not to stare because my social tact, as wanting as it is, remembers that one tidbit from my youth: "Don't stare at people!"

Unfortunately, sometimes I slip up.

Today, I was at the grocery store and suddenly a face intrigued me. A man was walking past me and my brain instantly noted the softness of his blue eyes, the pleasant proportions of his features, and the warmth of the smile that lit up his whole face. He wasn't smiling at me. He was smiling at the world as he walked through the store. I love it when people choose to be happy with no obvious reason. I think it was that happy smile that made me look again.

We had briefly exchanged glances with my first look, then he had looked away. When he looked back he saw me looking at him again. It was just a half-instant of me enjoying the beauties of the morning--forgetting that this one was living, breathing and capable of knowing when he was being admired. And he knew. I could see it in the infinitesimal sparkle that jumped into his eyes. Sometimes you just know that somebody else knows exactly what you're thinking. In that instant, I was completely transparent and wished I could disappear altogether.

I kept walking, mortified. Not that I was harboring any illicit emotions that I should feel guilty about--just that I felt caught out in my youthful diversions. I tried, as I always do, to laugh about it. As I finished my shopping, I started mentally composing this blog entry, which is usually fairly therapeutic. This time, unfortunately, those thoughts worsened the situation when I realized I'd just stepped into the checkout line directly behind this same man.

In the words of the immortal Homer Simpson, "D'oh!!"

I looked to the left. I looked to the right. No other open checkstands. So I stared at the floor. Then I felt his smile on me. He was enjoying this. Apparently I was still transparent. After about 30 seconds of eternity, it was his turn to pay and leave and I was left to my normal level of social awkwardness.

Good times, good times.

Now, if you're a young newlywed aghast at the idea that a married woman could actually NOTICE another man for three seconds in the grocery store, my apologies. I would just as easily have noticed a beautiful woman, or a beautiful child, or a beautifully crafted advertisement, or a milky-white daisy that had dropped from a display.

I wish it had been a symmetrically pleasing daisy I had noticed, with the cheerful sunburst in the middle staring back at me. That would have been far less embarrassing.