Candid Beauty

The crystal chandelier illuminates the great wooden dining table that is scattered with tiny puzzle pieces. A teenage girl sits in a chair at the end of the table, dwarfed by its sheer size. Sophia works in silent diligence, piece by piece. Her baby doll fingers gingerly grasp a piece, and her hand hovers over her work like a claw machine at an arcade. Her hand stops and lowers, the piece easily falling into place. A hum escapes her throat and turns into an indistinguishable song, or rather, a conglomeration of many songs, all of which she puts into words of her own.

I watch from the doorway. I am silent, even though I know she can’t hear me. She brushes her short glossy brown hair behind her ears, revealing a hearing aid. Immediately I feel as though somebody has punched me in the stomach, and I wonder why my little sister had to have such misfortune. I take my hands and cup them over my own ears, to hear as she does. I can hear myself breathing, I can hear the echo sound of cardboard puzzle pieces snapping together, and I can hear the comforting rasp of hums. What I do not hear, however, is the constant yelling of cartoons on television, nor the dog barking outside, nor the clank of silverware from inside the kitchen. I smile then, as I realize just how peaceful everything is. I look back at my sister, dressed a baggy green granny shirt and some old Abercrombie jeans that I passed down to her. She is still working on her puzzle, my presence unannounced to her. I walk up to her and lean over her shoulder so that I’m close to her ear, and tell her that her puzzle is looking good. Sophia and tells me that she is going to call our grandmother when she finishes and a smile erupts on her face, teeth wired in braces. Her round, child-like face, and full blushing cheeks frame two stunning brown eyes that flicker with a somber brilliance. Her candid simplicity is suddenly strangly beautiful. I laugh because it's funny and I laugh because I love her. The puzzle is nearly finished now, and I smile as the last piece falls into place.





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SilentStranger said...
Aug. 5, 2015 at 10:14 pm
Thank you :)
 
Austin said...
Mar. 2, 2009 at 1:02 pm
I realy like this one Monique, maybe my favorite!
 
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