It was a typical weekday morning. My alarm went off at 6:45am. I hit snooze about 3 times. I headed straight to the guest bathroom (which is where I do my hair) switched on my curling iron and proceeded to the kitchen. That’s where I iron. I turned it on and, while still in that morning haze, made my way to the master bath.
It was while I was brushing my teeth, hunched over the face basin, with one eye open, that I noticed something different about my nose. It was the same shape, same size, definitely the same color… BUT… there were freckles… Yes, freckles. On the bridge of the nose I inherited from my father, were an array of dark brown spots. Huh?!?!?!
After a few moments of searching for more of these newcomers, I continued to prepare to leave for the office. Once I arrived, I got settled in, checked my emails and called my mother. I told her what I had found. She could not believe I hadn’t noticed them before.
She said I’d had freckles since college, probably due to all of those days on the sidelines of football games, working YMCA camps, teaching dance and cheer camps…and so on. Huh?!?!?!
How is it that I have missed such a prominent characteristic, for so many years?
Later that day, while enjoying “Soupman” at Northpark Center and texting a friend in Florida (about dating), a question was posed. “What type of man do you want to be with?” I had a moment of clarity. An “Aha Moment” as Oprah refers to it.
Physical characteristics aside, I want to be with a man who knows that when I am not making eye contact, it’s because I think he’s beautiful. A man who knows that when I cover my mouth with my fingers, it’s because I'm holding back. A man who notices the beauty mark below my chin and on the inside arch of my foot. A man who knows that when I hum while chewing gum, it’s because I’m nervous. A man who notices that when I tap my foot, tears will soon follow. A man who notices that my brown eyes become a bit more amber during the summer months. A man who notices the tiny scar on the inside of my wrist. A man who knows that I'm not really the handful I portray myself to be. He knows when I'm hiding. He knows when I feel unsafe. He has memorized all of my secret tickle spots.
He knows that even when I'm running wild, there is still a sense of calm...because he sees me... REALLY sees me...
He notices the little things... the details... like the freckles on my nose.
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