Beautific Ruminations by Adelaide Morgan

What does it mean to be beautiful? This is not a question I have ever asked myself before, yet it is one I know find myself pondering. Thoughts.

As I have matured, beauty has meant many different things to me: my mother, my wife, my dog. Simple things such as waking on a sunny, or snowy, day. Watching the sunset in the arms of the one I love.

All these things can be described as having a beauty of some kind, but yet, they are not the definition of the word I'm looking for.

I have heard girls calling me beautiful, amongst other things, generally along the lines of 'oh he's gorgeous, isn't he beautiful?', but to me... I think for something to truly possess beauty it has... It has to have a certain something, though I do not know what.

I close my eyes and drift, not thinking of anything other than the word beautiful, curious to see what images it brings to mind.

The first things to filter through my consciousness are music, a song, one of ours. Mine. My brow furrows; I find this song to have beauty. I concentrate harder; there are now words, only music. So... I find the music to possess the beauty rather than the song?

The music fades out, another sound coming to me. The sound of laughter, a familiar laugh, but the sound disappears before I can place it. So... Laughter and happiness can have beauty.

I am in dark silence for what feels like hours before a blurry image appears before me. A face, slowly sharpening into focus. Mussy dark blonde hair, twinkling blue-grey eyes, tanned skin and a cheeky grin.

Oh!

I open my eyes and smile. The answer to my question was in front of me. Beauty is Daniel, the man I love.