Blind to Beauty

Chapter Nineteen

“The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It's the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows & the beauty of a woman only grows with passing years.” ― Audrey Hepburn

    I woke up the next morning feeling even more exhausted than I had when I went to bed. It might have had something to do with a restless night’s sleep. That probably had everything to do with it. I rolled over and looked at my alarm clock. Nine a.m. I rolled over ready to try and sleep again when I thought about the box Seamoore had given me the night before.

    I had discarded the box on my dresser the night before, not wanting to think about it and only to curl up in my warm comfortable bed and sleep. Now I was curious as to just what was in this box. It had to be something different and thoughtful if it was from Seamoore.

    Rolling out of bed, I got up and walked over to my dresser. I picked up the box and shook slowly form side to side. Nothing moved inside the box, which made me even more curious. Was it empty? No because it had some weight to it.

     Walking back to my bed, I sat down cross-legged the package lying in front of me. Slowly I peeled the paper back. The sound of tape letting go of the paper seemed louder than usual, but that was only because I was nervous about this package.

     What had he given me? It was definitely not any form of music. Too big to be a CD; too thick to be a record; didn’t rattle like cassettes when I shook it. It had to be something different and unusual.

     Once the paper was removed I stared at a book. It was like the ones you get in elementary school where you can color the white cover, and then write and draw your story to fill the pages. The cover only had three words written on it in thick black scribbling. Blind to Beauty.

     My breath caught in my throat. Was this going to be a story about Seamoore and I? That was what came to mind. He wanted to write a story about him and I.

     Shakily I opened the book to the first page, skipping the inscription inside. I didn’t want to read that just yet. Maybe if I finished the book I would.

     I began reading the story. My heart racing and breathing hard.

     Once upon a time… that beginning is so cliché. But I can’t think of any other way to start this. So once upon a time there was a girl and she was beautiful. That’s what she had been called all of her life. Not in the way she was, but in the way she looked.

     The girl wanted nothing more than for people to look at her not for her looks but for her inner beauty. But she didn’t know that for people to see the inner beauty of her she had to see the inner beauty of them.

     It’s not that she didn’t see the inner beauty in others, it’s just she didn’t know it was beauty. She was brought up like everyone else that beauty was a physical thing, not a mental. But in reality beauty is the other way around.

     This girl’s name was Celeste. From Latin origin meaning: heavenly. And heavenly is how people thought she looked.

     Celeste didn’t understand what beautiful was. She didn’t think it should or was based on the way you look, or dress. That is was based on something much more complex. Something that no one could define.

     She met this boy one day. One of the only people in the world who could only base his opinions on others on how they talked, and acted. He was blind and couldn’t see. And Celeste looked past this. She was on the only people who ever treated him like he wasn’t a handicap, but the sarcastic jerk he really was.