Thursday, April 24, 2008

Beauty on Two and Four Legs

As I sat flipping through the May issue of Martha Stewart Living featuring two French Bulldogs lounging on a bed in a turquoise blue room on the cover in an incredibly overpriced pediatric dentist's office, a shy, fresh faced girl walked into the reception area from the inner sanctum of needles and drills and fluoride. Looking up from the plethora of plantings and dollars at work at Turkey Hill was a brand new girl, beaming, like she had just won the Miss America Pageant. Nothing was like this moment. Turkey Hill may as well have been a shit shack compared to the light coming off of this youngling.

"She did great! Doesn't she look beautiful?" her hygienist cooed to her dad or gramps about her braces being removed, giving follow up instructions. After three years she was free from the metal that wrapped her teeth in secrecy.

I stared at her, smiling as our eyes met, she blushed ever so slightly like the rosy pink middle of a buff colored tea rose.

I almost started to cry. What could be more beautiful than this simple moment. There are moments like this throughout life, but here, in this one, I felt old. Her life was just beginning. I could have been her mother, I suppose. If only I would have married that college boyfriend. What would that have been like?

Would I be so tired looking as my brother commented about me to my mother? 39 and waiting for my four year old to get his second crown. He is four! I think of life in terms of how long I legally 'have him' these days. Only 14 more years and he's off to the wild blue yonder. Four years already blurred by.

I have all of these little sweet moments I have captured in photographs. The sweet look of innocence and hope. Curiosity, mischieviousness and delight. Trust.

Trust like the look you see in all of these hopeful wide eyed pups you can pour over on Petfinder. They are hopeful that good things are to come. It never wanes or dims. Like hundreds of those before me, I say we need to be more like our dogs. Enjoy the moment of our light and never look back. Even if we're tired.

Here's to you, Miss Vickers. RIP.