That Girl

Earlier this week I overheard someone (a very attractive man, if you must know) wax poetic about a girl he saw at Borders one day. She was browsing in the non-fiction section and caught his eye, totally oblivious to the effect she had on him. He was describing a simple gesture she did, tucking her hair behind her ear or biting her lip in concentration, and how it really struck him as beautiful in that moment. He told his friend he wanted to thank that woman for just being obliviously, unselfconsciously beautiful in that moment.

Another friend told me about how his friend has a blog that is just letters to his future wife, and how the letters were touching and real and full of hope and love for the woman he hasn't even met yet.

The interesting thing to me in both those instances is that neither woman (the fictional nor the real) was described as a Victoria's Secret model or a movie star: they are ordinary women who are somehow imbued with an aura of extraordinary. What was it about the woman at Borders? Was it her hair color, facial features, figure, stance, posture? Or was it something that combined all of that, along with an unnameable attractiveness? Would someone call it her aura or her energy that struck with such memorable force?

What about the man looking for his future wife in every female face he passes? How will he know when he sees her?

I can recall a few times when something a man did almost stopped me in my path because it was so endearing or funny or touching, and it's always something simple: seeing a man playing with his nephew, walking his dog, buying a gift, smiling at a baby. Simple things with a big impact, and I couldnt' tell you the exact combination of gestures, clothing, lighting, hairstyle, or complexion.

I often wonder if I'm That Girl--the one who quietly goes about her business at the grocery store, the mall, the gas station, the office, the one who has unconsciously struck someone dumb with a thoughtless gesture. I wonder if I'll ever know. I wonder if I should assume that it happens with me and be more careful about what I say and do. I wonder if, some day many years from now, I'll be sitting on the porch with my husband and he'll describe such a moment or a gesture that still catches him off guard and makes him wonder how he was so blessed to marry me.

I wonder if I'll tell him how the same thing happened to me, or if I'll just squeeze his hand and remember...