He thought her beautiful, believed her impeccably wise; dreamed of her, wrote poems to her, which, ignoring the subject, she corrected in red ink. ~Virginia Wolfe
I had trouble falling asleep Saturday night, so I got up and eventually found myself “shopping the house” to accessorize my latest living room arrangement. (I was having family over the next day and wanted to make sure that everyone had a place to set their drinks.)
Fast forward to Sunday. I walked into the living room where Mr. Hines and my Dad were visiting and asked, “Isn’t the living room beautiful?”
To which Mr. Hines said, “It is now that you’re here.”
My Dad got a kick out of that. “Oh, now, listen to this. Matt’s still got it, huh?”
“He calls me hottie, even when I’m unshowered and not wearing makeup,” I answered.
“That’s how it should be,” Dad said.
Of course, when my husband calls me hot or beautiful, especially on those days that I don’t think my appearance warrants the compliment, I tend to wonder through what kind of lens he is seeing me.
Later that evening, I asked my Dad to reach the basket of birthday candles from the top shelf in the pantry. “You’re a pretty girl,” he told me as he walked over and kissed me. I blushed and said thank you, wondering why in the world he said that to me.
Once everyone had left and the house had gone quiet, I wondered why. Why did Mr. Hines and my Dad find me beautiful, and why did they both take the time to say so on this night?
Then, I thought of Virginia Wolfe’s words and put down my red pen, deciding to let the two most important men in my life, who know me better than anyone, find me beautiful.
And, just in case no one has told you lately, you are beautiful!
See you in class (minus the red pen),