“Bonana-appetit!” the young man expatiates as he turns to the window on his left. I look too, and indeed, there is a man facing the street, biting into his banana.
I appreciate the pun and I pass the young man who said it.
A few paces later, I hear him turn to his companion, and say “Aw, she was beautiful!”
Of course, I kept walking, but I’ve been thinking about that brief, six second encounter, long afterwards.
It’s been a long time since anyone has called me beautiful, and never by a stranger who meant what he said. I don’t even know if he was talking about me. I’ve been called hot, I’ve been flirted with, and I been flattered by vendors into buying their goods. But that, that…
That was nice.
Disclaimer: I know there will be other feminists out there who may hate the idea of this post. Being called beautiful does not invalidate me of my other virtues; of course I’m more than my looks. But oftentimes, when asked, many humans just want to know that they are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14), and many people want their children to know that too. Not just girls, not just women. At the end of a long and tearful week, this was the last thing I expected, and I appreciated it very much.
For those still reading this: AW, (S)HE WAS BEAUTIFUL!