Reader, I think that we both know a very special person. You.
I have in the literal sense never met you, but for your own reason you come to read my words, my musings, my greatest treasures. We know each other in this dimension.
There is something connecting both of us to the here and now.
I see you. Who you are. Your worth. And I love that you come to visit.
Who do I see?
A powerful, goddess-like woman.
She is bound to change the world with her feet in the dirt, her arms wide open, and a smile gracefully spread across her face.
She has dared to dream great and meaningful dreams.
She is the type of girl who deserves to be taken to quaint coffee shops. The kind of small shops that smell like it is raining outside.
She is the type of girl who should have her damp forehead kissed by the spring showers of Paris as you walk with her down the Champs Elysees. She deserves Paris and all the beauty that is contained within its city limits.
She is the type of girl who is brilliant. Not merely intelligent, for she is that too, but brilliant, shining, bright, ebullient, electric. She will let others find her passion with long walks and dinner talks.
She is known for her heart. It is rarely inside her being, instead, she lends it freely to those who need it more than she.
She dances when she can, stolen moments seized for her own pleasure and feeling of pure freedom.
She is deserving of true love.
She has faced challenges, the really hairy and scary types. The ones that lurk under beds and incite fear into all creatures. Once thought to be crippling, she knows now that they have made her who she is and who she is destined to be.
She thinks that, sometimes, the clouds look like when you pour a great cup of coffee and a plop or two of creamer and, after taking two sips from it, become absorbed in a fantastic book. Hours later there is a film of shattered creamer floating in the warm, dark beverage that you had long ago abandoned.
She cries easily, but that is a good thing. She feels for the people around her and the things she has no power to fix. She would much rather feel then to not at all.
She can spend an afternoon with herself and enjoy the company.
She has sat with her fear in a dark room and awaited the brighter days.
She loses herself in books of faraway lands. Books allow her to dream when she is still awake.
But most of all, she believes that there is good, that there is beauty, and that there is hope. Always.