The woman looked at her reflection. She was no beauty, yet there was tremendous beauty in her. As her hands flowed along the side of her face and down her neck, she thought, "Who didn't start out as beautiful? Wasn't it the things that happened later that began to conceal it...diminish it?"
Her eyes wandered to the trees and sunshine outside. But what they saw were the vignettes of long ago memories. Memories that crept into her heart like robbers, trying to snatch away whatever beauty she had left.
The child sat huddled in the corner, by the entrance door of the meager apartment. Her four year old eyes became horrified saucers as she watched Daddy punch Mommy hard in the stomach. Gasping, Mommy doubled up in pain.
"Why Daddy? Why?"
The child winced...her heart winced. Was this how Mommies and Daddies loved!? She closed her eyes to blot out the scene. She didn't want to know! She didn't want to remember!
She was too late. It was already imbedded in her mind.
More images swirled and the woman's thoughts jumped, one to another.
It was dark, and the child stood in the frame of a big black curtainless window. Beside her sat Mommy, huddled and weeping. She knew they had to go through yet another of what she called the terrible waiting times.
As the hours passed, Mommy crumpled… broken...into the child's tiny embrace. "It's okay, Mommy." She cooed comfortingly. "It's okay."
Somewhere out there in the dark was Daddy. Who knew when he would return? Who knew what to expect when he did? The child only knew that when he walked through that door, there would be that terrible feeling inside her tummy. Later, as a woman, she would come to learn it was the same fear soldiers felt before meeting the enemy.
A breeze splashed the woman's face and brought her back to the present. She inhaled deeply. Focusing once again on the new green leaves unfolding...the sweet scent of cut grass. She let their presence infuse her with beauty once again.
It was always like this...always this battle. One thing robbing her beauty while another would replenish it. And it was always a fine line to walk. Her greatest fear was that she would one day fall to the wrong side forever.
Below her, under the maple trees, she saw her own daughter playing with other children. The woman tried to protect her daughter without overprotecting her. That too, proved to be a fine line to walk. She let out an anguished moan. Why did everything always have to be a fine line!? The silent question threw a wrinkle across her brow as again the robbers crept in to stalk her.
The child was pushed and teased and no one defended her. There were no friends to stand by her. Naturally she had once run to Mommy, but Mommy was angry. Why was she so angry? Why was Mommy always hurting her...blaming her? Why didn't she protect? Why didn't she hug and comfort? Wasn't that what people who loved each other do?
By the age of six, the child knew she was alone.
"Mom!?"
The woman turned to see her daughter run into the room towards her. As she took in the miracle of this precious person, again she was infused with beauty. She saw that her daughter's eyes were blurring with moisture. No doubt there had been a hurtful exchange among playmates...and enough blame to go around twice.
She knew her daughter had her foibles. She knew her daughter very well. There would be time to deal with those. She opened her arms and hugged and comforted her.
As the night grew darker and the children slept, the woman felt the presence of her lover. He gathered her up into his arms easily, despite her generous proportions.
She felt his eyes looking at her through the darkened air. She wondered what he really saw. Did he see the beauty only? Was that the attraction? Was he even aware of the lack of beauty? If so, did it matter? Or was even that, in some perverse way, what drew him to her?
He said she thought too much. She thought he was right.
As she faced him, his hand rose to her cheek and held it. She breathed in his scent. It was a pleasant combination of sweat and cologne. Leaning into his hand with eyes closed, she felt the robbers stealing closer...invading even this moment of respite. She felt her heart begin to pound.
The child vied for Daddy's attentions, begging to be loved. But Daddy ignored the child. He rarely spoke to her. And when he was aware of her, he discussed her in the third person. It didn't matter that she heard him.
"Why must she come fishing with me? Can't you take her shopping with you?"
"But she WANTS to be with you, can't you see that?" said Mommy.
Soon the child stopped asking to be with anyone.