Quote:
Originally Posted by
angie II
Dis thread took me quite a while 2 complete, i.. i.. have neva been so touched in my life..
THUMBS UP man!
Thanks for reading….think my thread will not attract as much attention on those sex story…..
Quote:
Originally Posted by
sgblackdevil
Thanks for reading….think my thread will not attract as much attention on those sex story…..
Not true….I read thru every single story and thoroughly enjoyed them.
Even compiled them in a word document, all 39 pages of it…..Thanks.
Keep On Singing
Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her 3-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling.
They find out that the new baby is going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sings to his sister in Mommy’s tummy.
The pregnancy progresses normally for Karen, an active member of the Panther Creek United Methodist Church in Morristown, Tennessee. Then the labor pains come. Every five minutes, every minute. But complications arise during delivery. Hours of labor. Would a C-section be required?
Finally, Michael’s little sister is born. But she is in serious condition. With siren howling in the night, the ambulance rushes the infant to the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary’s Hospital, Knoxville, Tennessee. The days inch by. The little girl gets worse. The pediatric specialist tells the parents, “There is very little hope. Be prepared for the worst.”
Karen and her husband contact a local cemetery about a burial plot. They have fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby now they plan a funeral. Michael, keeps begging his parents to let him see his sister, “I want to sing to her,” he says.
Week two in intensive care. It looks as if a funeral will come before the week is over. Michael keeps nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care. But Karen makes up her mind. She will take Michael whether they like it or not. If he doesn’t see his sister now, he may never see her alive.
She dresses him in an oversized scrub suit and marches him into ICU. He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognizes him as a child and bellows, “Get that kid out of here now! No children are allowed. The mother rises up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glares steel-eyed into the head nurse’s face, her lips a firm line.
“He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!”
Karen tows Michael to his sister’s bedside. He gazes at the tiny infant losing the battle to live. And he begins to sing. In the pure hearted voice of a 3-year-old, Michael sings:
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray…”
Instantly the baby girl responds. The pulse rate becomes calm and steady.
Keep on singing, Michael.
“You never know, dear, how much I love you, Please don’t take my sunshine away…”
The ragged, strained breathing becomes as smooth as a kitten’s purr.
Keep on singing, Michael.
“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms…”
Michael’s little sister relaxes as rest, healing rest, seems to sweep over her.
Keep on singing, Michael.
Tears conquer the face of the bossy head nurse. Karen glows.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. Please don’t, take my sunshine away.”
Funeral plans are scrapped. The next day, the very next day, the little girl is well enough to go home! Woman’s Day magazine called it “the miracle of a brother’s song.” The medical staff just called it a miracle. Karen called it a miracle of God’s love!
Never give up on the people you love.
The Circus
Once, when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter.
This family made a big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of 12. You could tell they didn’t have a lot of money.
Their clothes were not expensive, but they were clean. The children were well-behaved, all of them standing in line, two-by-two behind their parents, holding hands. They were excitedly jabbering about the clowns, elephants, and other acts they would see that night.
One could sense they had never been to the circus before. It promised to be a highlight of their young lives. The father and mother were at the head of the pack, standing proud as could be.
The mother was holding her husband’s hand, looking up at him as if to say, “You’re my knight in shining armor.”
He was smiling and basking in pride, looking back at her as if to reply, “You got that right.”
The ticket lady asked the father how many tickets he wanted. He proudly responded, “Please let me buy eight children’s tickets and two adult tickets so I can take my family to the circus.”
The ticket lady quoted the price. The man’s wife let go of his hand, her head dropped, his lip began to quiver. The father leaned a little closer and asked, “How much did you say?”
The ticket lady again quoted the price. The man didn’t have enough money.
How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didn’t have enough money to take them to the circus? Seeing what was going on, my dad put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill and dropped it on the ground. (We were not wealthy in any sense of the word!)
My father reached down, picked up the bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me, sir, this fell out of your pocket.”
The man knew what was going on. He wasn’t begging for a handout but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heartbreaking, embarrassing situation. He looked straight into my dad’s eyes, took my dad’s hand in both of his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with his lip quivering and a tear running down his cheek, he replied, “Thank you, thank you, sir. This really means a lot to me and my family.”
My father and I went back to our car and drove home. We didn’t go to the circus that night, but we didn’t go without.
All The Good Things
He was in the first third grade class I taught at Saint Mary’s School in Morris, Minn. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million. Very neat in appearance, but had that happy-to-be-alive attitude that made even his occasional mischievousness delightful.
Mark talked incessantly. I had to remind him again and again that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I had to correct him for misbehaving. “Thank you for correcting me, Sister!” I didn’t know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.
One morning my patience was growing thin when Mark talked once too often, and then I made a novice-teacher’s mistake. I looked at him and said, “If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!”
It wasn’t ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, “Mark is talking again.” I hadn’t asked any of the students to help me watch Mark, but since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.
I remember the scene as if it had occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, very deliberately opened my drawer and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark’s desk, tore off two pieces of tape and made a big X with them over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark’s desk, removed the tape and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, “Thank you for correcting me, Sister.”
At the end of the year I was asked to teach junior-high math. The years flew by, and before I knew it Mark was in my classroom again. He was more handsome than ever and just as polite. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions in the “new math,” he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third.
One Friday, things just didn’t feel right. We had worked hard on a new concept all week, and I sensed that the students were frowning, frustrated with themselves - and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down.
It took the remainder of the class period to finish the assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Charlie smiled. Mark said, “Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend.”
That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and I listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. “Really?” I heard whispered. “I never knew that meant anything to anyone!” “I didn’t know others liked me so much!”
No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn’t matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.
That group of students moved on. Several years later, after I returned from vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip, the weather, and my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a side-ways glance and simply says, “Dad?” My father cleared his throat as he usually did before something important. “The Eklunds called last night,” he began. “Really?” I said. “I haven’t heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is.”
Dad responded quietly. “Mark was killed in Vietnam,” he said. “The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend.”
I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me.
The church was packed with Mark’s friends. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.
I was the last one to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as pallbearer came up to me. “Were you Mark’s math teacher?” he asked. I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. “Mark talked about you a lot,” he said.
After the funeral, most of Mark’s former classmates headed to Chucks farmhouse for lunch. Mark’s mother and father were there, obviously waiting for me. “We want to show you something,” his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. “They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it.”
Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark’s classmates had said about him. “Thank you so much for doing that.” Mark’s mother said. “As you can see, Mark treasured it.”
Mark’s classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, “I still have my list. It’s in the top drawer of my desk at home.” Chuck’s wife said, “Chuck asked me to put this in our wedding album.” “I have mine too,” Marilyn said. “It’s in my diary.” Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. “I carry this with me at all times,” Vicki said without batting an eyelash. “I think we all saved our lists.”
That’s when I finally sat down and cried. I cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.
The purpose of this story is to encourage everyone to compliment the people you love and care about. We often tend to forget the importance of showing our affections and love. Sometimes the smallest of things, could mean the most to another. Please spread this story around and spread the message and encouragement, to express your love and caring by complimenting and being open with communication. The density of people in society is so thick, that we forget that life will end one day and we don’t know when that one day will be. Tell them, before it is too late.
Chris Diary
It had been raining for more than a week, so much rain it made everyday seemed so restless and gloomy. She called and said she was coming up. It was the third time she came up to see me that week. I carried her excuse of why she came all the way here and went to meet her at the nearby 7-11. She was standing there alone, carrying her red umbrella. Her friend had dropped her off. It was raining and she was shivering. She looked weak and fragile in the harsh rain, wearing not enough to keep her warm. I walked up to her and said, “You shouldn’t come see me anymore,” and stuff like how we shouldn’t be together.
She said, “I miss you.”
I told her coldly, “Lets go, I’ll take you home.”
She did not open up her umbrella, I knew she wanted to share mine.
I said, “Open up your umbrella, let’s go.”
Unwillingly, She opened up her umbrella and walked with me to the car. She said she hadn’t eat lunch or dinner and asked if we could stop at some place to eat.
Right away I answered with a stoned heart, “No!”
Disappointed, she asked me to take her to the train station, she said she would take the train back home.
Maybe it was the rain, all the trains were full of people with umbrellas and suit cases who were eager to get home, not caring about who just passed by. We waited and waited, she looked at me innocently. Being together for so long, of course I knew what she meant. I understand how she must feel when she came all this way here in this kind of weather and I treat her like this. With her soft eyes staring at me, I felt guilt and wanted to let her stay for the night.
But reality struck again, I said to her coldly, “Let’s go try the other train station.”
We were living in the same apartment building, on the same floor. Back then there were four of us, and we got along well. We would always eat dinner together, watch movies, and sometimes go camping. We were more like a family, but I didn’t know I would end up falling in love with the only girl of the four. Maybe it was during the last year of college, having living together for two years, we developed deep feelings for each other. After she graduated she went back home, and I stayed for one more year to finish school. During that year I was only able to take the train down to see her on holidays, but never for long. That was how we kept the treasured relationship.
We were walking along the side of the road. She was in front of me and I was right behind her. Her umbrella had a broken spoke. She looked liked a wounded soldier, carrying her rusted rifle walking weakly. Many times, she was too into thinking or whatever she was doing, drifting off the road, she almost got hit by the cars passing by. I wanted to just take her in my arms, but with the love I had for her and the constant pain in my stomach, I did nothing. On the way, we passed by the park where we use to always go.
She begged and said, “Lets go in the park just for a little while please, I promise I’ll go home right after this.”
With her begging, my cold heart softened, but I still put up an annoyed face and walked in the park. I was just sitting on the benches looking like I wanted to leave. She went to the big oak tree and she was looking for something. I knew she was looking for what we wrote on that tree with a silver ink pen half a year ago. If I remember it right, it said, “Chris and Susan was here, Chris had tea and Susan was drinking hot chocolate. Hope Chris and Susan would always remember this day, always loving each other, forever.” She was looking around for quite a while, then she came back slowly with tears on her face.
She said, “Chris, I can’t find it, it’s not there anymore.”
I felt so sour inside, there was a stream of pain, flowing into my heart, the kind of pain I’ve never felt before. But all I could do was pretend I didn’t care, and said, “Can we go now?”
I opened up my big black umbrella, she was just standing there, didn’t want to leave yet, hoping there was still a chance. She said, “You made up the story of you and that other girl didn’t you? I know I frustrate you sometimes, but I’ll change, can’t we start over?”
I didn’t say a word, just looked down and shook my head. After that we just kept on walking towards the train station, didn’t say a word to each other.
Four years ago, the doctor said I had cancer, but it was found early, so it was still curable. Thinking that it was okay, I started living my normal life again, and even forgot about the cancer. I didn’t think about the cancer again and did not go back to the doctor. Until a month ago, my stomach was hurting for two weeks straight, and the nightmare awakened me again. First I thought the pain would go away, but it grew stronger until to the point that I couldn’t take it anymore. I went back to the doctor and took an X-ray.
The picture came out and there was a big black spot, which proved the truth that I did not want to believe. I was at the most glittering part of my life, but it was coming to an end. I wanted myself and the people around me to go through the least pain possible, so I decided to commit suicide. But I couldn’t let people find out about my intentions, especially Susan, the person I love the most in this whole world, who still doesn’t know about the truth. Susan was still young, she shouldn’t have to go through this. So I made up some stories and lied to her. It was a cruel thing to do, and it broke her heart, but it was the fastest way to wipe out three years’s feelings. I didn’t have much time, because I would soon start to loose hair and she would find out eventually. But now I’m close to succeeding, this drama would soon be over. Thirty minutes more this would all come to an end, that was what I had in mind.
The train had stopped running so I called a taxi for her. We were just standing there, waiting, loosing our last moments in silence.
I saw the taxi from far away, I held my tears and said to her, “Take care of yourself, take good care of yourself.”
She didn’t talk, just nodded lightly, and then opened up her misshaped umbrella and stepped out on the street. Out in the rain, we became two single life forms, one red, one black, so far away from each other. I opened the door for her and she got in, then I close the door that would separate me from her forever. I stood by the car, staring in the dark window, at the first love in my life, also the last one, walking out of my life. The car started, driving into the street. Finally I couldn’t hold my sorrow and the twist in my heart any longer, waving my arms rapidly chasing after the taxi, because I knew, this would be the last time I see her. I wanted to tell her I still love her, I wanted to tell her to stay, I wanted to tell her so much, but the taxi had already turned in the corner. Warm tears kept falling down my face, blended with the cold rain drops. I was cold, not because of the rain. I was cold inside.
She left, and I didn’t get anymore of her phone calls even until today. I know she didn’t see my tears, because they were washed away by the rain. I left without regrets. But I’m not Chris, I’m that girl Susan, using my memory, and his diary I found after one year since he left, writing down these last words.
Life Together
One fine day, an old couple around the age of 70, walks into a lawyer’s office. Apparently, they are there to file a divorce. Lawyer was very puzzled, after having a chat with them, he got their story.
This couple had been quarreling all their 40 over years of marriage nothing ever seems to go right.
They hang on because of their children, afraid that it might affect their up-bringing. Now, all their children have already grown up, have their own family, there’s nothing else the old couple have to worry about, all they wanted is to lead their own life free from all these years of unhappiness from their marriage, so both agree on a divorce.
Lawyer was having a hard time trying to get the papers done, because he felt that after 40 years of marriage at the age of 70, he couldn’t understand why the old couple would still wants a divorce.
While they were signing the papers, the wife told the husband. “I really love you, but I really can’t carry on anymore, I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK, I understand.” said the husband. Looking at this, the lawyer suggested a dinner together, just 3 of them, wife thought, why not, since they are still going be friends.
At the dining table, there was a silence of awkwardness.
The first dish was roasted chicken, immediately, the old man took the drumstick for the old lady. “Take this, it’s your favourite.”
Looking at this, the lawyer thought maybe there’s still a chance, but the wife was frowning when she answer. “This is always the problem, you always think so highly of yourself, never thought about how I feel, don’t you know that I hate drumsticks?”
Little did she know that, over the years, the husband have been trying all ways to please her, little did she know that drumsticks was the husband’s favourite. Little did he know that she never thought he understand her at all, little did he know that she hates drumsticks even though all he wants is the best for her.
That night, both of them couldn’t sleep, toss and turn, toss and turn. After hours, the old man couldn’t take it anymore, he knows that he still loves her, and he can’t carry on life without her, he wants her back, he wants to tell her, he is sorry, he wanted to tell her, “I love you.”
He picks up the phone, started dialing her number. Ringing never stops. He never stop dialing.
On the other side, she was sad, she couldn’t understand how come after all these years, he still doesn’t understand her at all, she loves him a lot, but she just can’t take it anymore. Phone’s ringing, she refuses to answer knowing that it’s him. “What’s the point of talking now that it’s over. I have ask for it and now. I want to keep it this way, if not I will lose face. “She thought. Phone still ringing. She have decided to pull out the cord.
Little did she remember, he have heart problems.
The next day, she received news that he had passed away. She rushed down to his apartment, saw his body, lying on the couch still holding on to the phone. He had a heart attack when he was still trying to get thru her phone line.
As sad as she could be. She will have to clear his belongings. When she was looking thru the drawers, she saw this insurance policy, dated from the day they got married, beneficiary is her. Together in that file there’s this note.
“To my dearest wife, by the time you are reading this, I’m sure I’m no longer around, I bought this policy for you, though the amount is only $100k, I hope it will be able to help me continue my promise that I have made when we got married, I might not be around anymore, I want this amount of money to continue taking care of you, just like the way I will if I could have live longer. I want you to know I will always be around, by your side. I love you.”
Tears flowed like river.
“When you love someone, let them know. You never know what will happen the next minute. Learn to build a life together. Learn to love each other for who they are. Not what they are.”
Regrets
10th grade
As I sat there in English class, I stared at the girl next to me. She was my so called “best friend”. I stared at her long, silky hair, and wished she was mine. But she didn’t notice me like that, and I knew it.
After class, she walked up to me and asked me for the notes she had missed the day before and handed them to her. She said “thanks” and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I wanted to tell her, I want her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.
11th grade
The phone rang. On the other end, it was her. She was in tears, mumbling on and on about how her love had broke her heart. She asked me to come over because she didn’t want to be alone, so I did. As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes, wishing she was mine. After 2 hours, one Drew Barrymore movie, and three bags of chips, she decided to go to sleep.
She looked at me, said “thanks” and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.
Senior year
The day before prom she walked to my locker. “My date is sick.” She said. He’s not going to go well, I didn’t have a date, and in 7th grade, we made a promise that if neither of us had dates, we would go together just as “best friends”. So we did.
Prom night, after everything was over, I was standing at her front door step! I stared at her as she smiled at me and stared at me with her crystal eyes. I want her to be mine, but she isn’t thinking of me like that, and I know it. Then she said, “I had the best time, thanks!” and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.
Graduation Day
A day passed, then a week, then a month. Before I could blink, it was graduation day. I watched as her perfect body floated like an angel up on stage to get her diploma. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn’t notice me like that, and I knew it. Before everyone went home, she came to me in her smock and hat, and cried as I hugged her. Then she lifted her head from my shoulder and said, “Youe my best friend, thanks.” and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.
A Few Years Later
Now I sit in the pews of the church. That girl is getting married now. I watched her say “I do” and drive off to her new life, married to another man. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn’t see me like that, and I knew it. But before she drove away, she came to me and said “you came!”. She said “thanks” and kissed me on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love her but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why.
Funeral
Years passed, I looked down at the coffin of a girl who used to be my “best friend”. At the service, they read a diary entry she had wrote in her high school years. This is what it read:
I stare at him wishing he was mine, but he doesn’t notice me like that, and I know it. I want to tell him, I want him to know that I don’t want to be just friends, I love him but I’m just too shy, and I don’t know why. I wish he would tell me he loved me! I wish I did too. I thought to myself, and I cried.
I Love You.
Send this to all the people that you love! Even if you don’t love someone send it to them just to let them know that you are thinking about them!
The Salty Coffee
He met her at a party. She was so outstanding, many guys chasing after her, while he was so normal, nobody paid attention to him.
At the end of the party, he invited her to have coffee with him, she was surprised but due to being polite, she promised. They sat in a nice coffee shop, he was too nervous to say anything, she felt uncomfortable, and she thought to herself, “Please, let me go home.”
Suddenly he asked the waiter, “Would you please give me some salt? I’d like to put it in my coffee.” Everybody stared at him, so strange! His face turned red but still, he put the salt in his coffee and drank it. She asked him curiously, “Why you have this hobby?” He replied, “When I was a little boy, I lived near the sea, I liked playing in the sea, I could feel the taste of the sea, just like the taste of the salty coffee. Now every time I have the salty coffee, I always think of my childhood, think of my hometown, I miss my hometown so much, I miss my parents who are still living there.”
While saying that tears filled his eyes. She was deeply touched. That’s his true feeling, from the bottom of his heart. A man who can tell out his homesickness, he must be a man who loves home, cares about home, has responsibility of home. Then she also started to speak, spoke about her faraway hometown, her childhood, her family.
That was a really nice talk, also a beautiful beginning of their story. They continued to date. She found that actually he was a man who meets all her demands. He had tolerance, was kind hearted, warm, careful. He was such a good person but she almost missed him! Thanks to his salty coffee! Then the story was just like every beautiful love story, the princess married to the prince, and then they were living the happy life. And, every time she made coffee for him, she put some salt in the coffee, as she knew that’s the way he liked it.
After 40 years, he passed away, left her a letter which said, “My dearest, please forgive me, forgive my whole life’s lie. This was the only lie I said to you - the salty coffee. Remember the first time we dated? I was so nervous at that time, actually I wanted some sugar, but I said salt. It was hard for me to change so I just went ahead. I never thought that could be the start of our communication! I tried to tell you the truth many times in my life, but I was too afraid to do that, as I have promised not to lie to you for anything. Now I’m dying, I afraid of nothing so I tell you the truth, I don’t like the salty coffee, what a strange bad taste. But I have had the salty coffee for my whole life! Since I knew you, I never feel sorry for anything I do for you. Having you with me is my biggest happiness for my whole life. If I can live for the second time, still want to know you and have you for my whole life, even though I have to drink the salty coffee again.”
Her tears made the letter totally wet. Someday, someone asked her, “What’s the taste of salty coffee?” She replied, “It’s sweet.”
Pass this to everyone because love is not to forget but to forgive, not to see but understand, not to hear but to listen, not to let go but HOLD ON!
She Was Not Beautiful
She was not beautiful. Nothing about her was extraordinary. Nothing about her made her stand out in a crowd. She grew up in a family of six and being the eldest, she learned responsibility at an early age.
As she grew stronger and brighter, she instilled a sort of light and cheer to whomever she met. She was not beautiful, but she made others feel better about themselves. She meets a rebel boy who thinks he is all man, befriending him, she teaches him. She teaches him how to read and a little boost, the ‘man’ needed to go to college, they become fast friends and she fell fast in love with her rugged handsome student.
The ‘man’ then finds himself in love with a girl. A girl who was so beautiful. Her hair was a hallow of light around her. Her eyes the bluest blue of the ocean. ‘Like an angel’ he tells his tutor ’like a beautiful angel.’ The girl swallows a lump at her throat. She was not beautiful, she did not posses the heart of the one he loved, but she did not care. As long as he was happy, she would be happy, or so she tried to. She helped write the most beautiful letters to his angel. All the time visioning it was she herself receiving those very letters. And so the girl helped him choose the right clothes, say the right words, and buy the right gifts for his angel.
His angel brought him much joy and much pain to the girl who cried behind her smiles. But that never stopped her from giving more than she will ever receive. Then one day, the angel he loved left him for another man. A richer more successful man. The boy was stunned. He was so hurt, he did not speak for days. The girl went to him. He cried on her shoulder and she cried with him.
He was hurt and she was too. Time went by and so wounds heal. The boy realizes something about his friend/tutor. Something he never realized before. How her laughter sounded heavenly and how her smiles brightened up the darkest days, or how simply beautiful she looked to him!
Beautiful. This plain, simple girl was beautiful to him. And he began to fall. Fall so in love with this beautiful girl. On one day, he picked up all his courage to see her. He walked to her house, nervous, and fidgeting, Running his thoughts over and over his head.
He was going to tell her how beautiful she was to him. He was going to tell her how wonderfully in love he was with her. He knocked. No one was home.
The next day, he found out that the beautiful girl he fell in love with had a brain tumor that put her into a coma. The doctors were grim and the family decided to let her go.
One final time he got to see her. He held her hand. He stroked her hair and he cried for this beautiful girl. He cried, but it was too late. The beautiful girl was buried and the heavens broke. Out a beautiful spring shower, a cry for their loss. She was the most beautiful girl in the world and she had taught the rebel boy-man to love and what it is to be loved.
She was the most beautiful girl in the world.
Look around. Aren’t there a lot of plain faces? Take a good look. A real good look or you might just miss out that beautiful person.