I flipped through a glossy People magazine I found lying on my mom’s floor.
Page after page was filled with gorgeous models, actresses, and singers; perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect clothes.
I turned the pages with my soft pudgy hands, admiring the colorful gowns and dramatic makeup sported by the women who stared at me from the pages.
They were all so beautiful! Living in a world of Disney princesses, I took a cue from Snow White; who was the most beautiful? Who would know? Turning the page, I looked up at my dad, fastening his tie before work. He was a grown up, and he was my dad; he was supposed to know everything–surely he would know!
I twisted a blonde pigtail around my finger, “Daddy?”
“Who is the most beautiful girl in the world?”
Without hesitation, he met my kindergarten eyes with his bright blue-grey gaze, “Your mom; your mom is the most beautiful girl in the world.”
He ruffled my hair, and I looked up at his dresser, peering at their wedding picture. I gently picked up the photo, clutching the shiny frame, and studied my mom. Straight white teeth, oval face, tan skin, and bright turquoise eyes like the sea; but most beautiful above all, her heart.
My eyes played ping pong between the photo in my hands and the photos in the magazines, and a smile crept across my face as I found satisfaction in his answer.
Yes, she was the most beautiful girl in the world.