The slow rise of her chest mimicked the sun, but it was the stars who failed to match the light of her eyes. Her rib cage opened in and out like a hot air balloon flying distantly against a morning sky. She was still, like a photograph, except for the small movements of life flowing in and out of her small frame. Here in this moment, she looked the most innocent and vulnerable I had ever witnessed. Seeing her this way, I would never have been able to tell the pain she’s had to explore and navigate through in her life — all the suffering seemed invisible.
Imagining the look in her eyes would be torture, to know that the kind flecks of gold had been hardened — had seen too much for her adolescent age — but melted my heart.
She was far passed her age, and I, her senior, even felt belittled compared to her experience, almost childlike. But here she was before me, quiet and calm; an ocean before a terrible storm. Was it coming? Would it hit?
It scared me, I had never been so terrified before of something so beautiful and destructive. Should I take shelter? But where could I hide?
Questions I’d never know the answers to, because I simply was too infatuated to move.
I only wanted to watch a little longer, the fall and rise of her chest. Did she see her own life this way? That after a down, there must be an up.