“You look so beautiful.”

I stared. “Huh?”
I had lost the precious naïveté of my childhood and wanted reassurance, validation. I reacted, switching from innocence to cynicism. Maybe wisdom was doubting people’s intentions, always staying on the safe side in a merciless society. The stars on my pillow, the dreams I scrambled to reach, the safety in the eye of the storm, giving the benefit of the doubt, were all illusions, my warped self thought. I longed for concrete evidence, tangible reality.
One day I got it.

The wind blew the salt, the tide came in like a live thing, and the sand felt cool and alive under my feet. My friend walked beside me, throwing clam shells into the ocean.
The woman was also walking, wearing flip flops, her small dog on a leash, her hair tangled and loose. She stopped us, and told us how wonderful the beach is, how wonderful the day is, and how wonderful we are. She walked on, and I thought, and wished I’d said, “How wonderful you are.”
Like a puppy discovering the foam of the surf, she lost herself in the wonder of life. Her children might be living on the edge, her husband might be eating and breathing work, her past might be berating her, her future intimidating her, but today, she wandered the flat stretches of sand, and spent the whole day living on the altar.

She was balancing groceries and old age. I was balancing groceries and the fear of failure. She stopped me, and said, “You look so beautiful.”
Right back at you, lady.