The Beautiful Girl

The girl was known to be of a melancholy sort. She didn't play like the other children did. She didn't smile like the other children did. She didn't laugh like the other children did. Perhaps that's because she didn't have a loving home like the other children did. She washed the floors with buckets of soapy water, she washed the windows with buckets of vinegar, she washed the clothes with cups of detergent, she washed the dishes with spoonfuls of soap, and she washed away her joy with a waterfall of tears.

She hadn't always been of the melancholy sort. Once she had beautiful floors to imagine the world was hers on, beautiful windows to daydream out of, beautiful clothes to dress up in, beautiful dishes to have grand tea parties with, and beautiful joyful laughter that washed all sorrow away.

But that was before. Before everything happened, and she was left with few beautiful things, and her beautiful spirit was washed away like sidewalk chalk on a rainy day.

But not everything changed after everything happened. The old man was still her neighbor. The old man still loved to see the beautiful girl even though her joy was fading fast and even though it grieved him. So even though he was old and sometimes grumpy and sometimes curmudgeony, he decided he needed to find the beautiful girl whose joy was fading fast a new source of joy. For a world without joyful girls is no world at all.

So the old man thought back into the past in order to remember what brought him joy when he was but a lad. Now reader, this thinking back into the past did not happen overnight for he was a very old man and a very many horrible and joyless things had happened to him over the course of the many years since he had been a lad.

Slowly he thought back to homemade pie, adventures to the swimming hole, and stars smattered against a clear, crisp sky. So he brought her homemade pie, but the pie did not bring her joy. He took her swimming and still the joy would not return. The old man tried to get her to gaze upon the stars that lit up the night sky, but her eyes were too full of her own tears.

What am I missing? the man thought. He thought farther and farther back and had a new old thought. A thought that he had thought often as a young lad. His eyes started to sparkle, and he envisioned her eyes sparkling as well.

The old man planned and planned and finally his plan matured into action.

The dog's glossy coat sparkled and the girl's eyes lit up briefly, oh so briefly. And the man's eyes glowed as he saw joy finally returning to the girl's beautiful eyes.