Thunderstruck

She was beautiful. Everyone knew it. He knew it too, and never tired of studying her delicate features. They would talk for hours sometimes, and all the while, he marveled at the curve of her cheek, the line of her brow where it merged with her nose, the sparkle of her grey eyes, the delicate softness of her arms...

He was usually surprised when he saw her. He never knew how she would appear when they met. She had an uncanny changeability to her beauty. It depended somewhat on her makeup or lack of it, and her mood; the time of the month; the lighting. But these things were not enough to account for all of it. Sometimes she was a simple little sister, innocent and joyful and ready to play. Sometimes she was dramatic and alluring and full of brooding feminine energy. Sometimes she was all fresh and clear and strong and pure. Sometimes full of shadowy dark animal stirrings and probing subtleties. She was always fully present before him and he knew that he sometimes saw things not visible to others.

It was that way today. They were working together intently on a difficult project, and had been focused and pouring all their collective energy into it for hours. He had been so focused on the project that he had not much noticed her look. She was speaking to him, describing a complex aspect of the problem they were working on and suddenly her beauty overtook him. She had reached back with both hands to pull back her hair, and her face was framed between the backs of her extended arms. She had a look at that moment that he had never seen before in his life. It was a delicate balance and poise and rich gentle womanliness that he could not have imagined possible. He was thunderstruck!

He could hear her speaking still, and knew that he would have to respond in a moment, but he could not interpret her words. His entire being was consumed with this remarkable grace of being that had descended upon her. Several sentences passed, and then he knew from her look that she needed him to respond to what she had said. Somehow, he managed to recapture an echo of her last words and make an appropriate but minimal response. Now he could not look at her without an overpowering sense of awe and affection and sweet, simple delight.

He did not fully understand what had happened. He knew that he had seen something far outside the range normally visible, though in no way supernatural or strange. What he had seen seemed to be an amplification of her natural beauty; or perhaps it was an unveiling. He suspected that the seeing was as much to do with him as with her. His perception seemed to be unfolding and receptive as it had never been before. He suspected that what he saw was a truer representation of her than he normally saw through the lens of his own limitations and experiences and expectations. He also knew that he had lost all sense of objectivity about her. He knew that he saw her through eyes of admiration and delight. He knew that she was still her human self with its blemishes and imperfections, but now he saw her essence embodied. Now he knew a deep secret, and it sang to his heart.