The Dawn Of Understanding

I can still see her in my minds eye. The memory of her echoes through my head even still. Her voice still sings sonnets and her face will forever be imprinted in my soul. I never knew her name, I never touched her, I never even talked to her. I know this woman only from a distance and only for a very short time.

Her curves and body will remain with me forever. I would be remiss if I said that she was perfect, for she was simply a mortal woman. Her flesh was not without blemish and her hair did not shine. The woman’s curves were not flawless and her voice was far short of angelic.

I remember laying eyes on her. I was young in the ways of the world and even younger still in the ways of sensuality. The plastic seat was hard and I was exhausted. I was a movement out of the corner of my eye, as the woman sat several seats from me in the chilly airport terminal.

I still have a perfect image of that first glimpse of the woman, I remember every line and shadow of her face. I remember the dark blond hair the framed her pretty face. It was a pretty face. As I said she was no goddess, I have seen many women that would be considered more beautiful than she.

I believe that pretty is the best word to describe this woman. She was pretty in a plain way that spoke volumes of her life. I remember that our eyes locked, for no more than a second before we each looked away. She had pretty eyes, the kind that intoxicates, the kind that could steal your heart if you weren’t careful, the kind that could steel your heart if you weren’t careful.

Her eyes were green with a touch of hazel running through them. There was a mystery there, a form of sadness if you will. I knew at that moment that she was far from where she was supposed to be. A sadness that I could relate to, I was preparing to leave everything and embrace a strange, new world. I was to fly away and discover life with people I hardly knew. I was to trust them and live with them, this is what truly caused my fear.

I was so scared, when I looked into her eyes. I know that she could see right into my naive eyes. My heart and soul looked upon this pretty woman with a kind of reverence, she was where I would be soon. My home was her strange, new world. This was the first time that this concept would make sense to me.

How much she would teach me, in such a short time, this woman. She was just a woman, but my fear made her what she became. A milestone on my journey though life.

I have said that her curves were not perfect, but they were there. Subtle and quiet, the kind that would speak to a naïve soul on his quest to join the world of manhood. I quickly learned this when she stood and walked to the ticket counter. As she moved to the counter I followed her with my eyes, tracing every line of her backside. For a brief moment I wondered what her body looked like.

She wore simple traveling clothes; jeans and a pink t-shirt, covered with a denim jacket. I was trying to avoid it but the thoughts came anyway. My mind removed the jacket and then the shirt. I envisioned her with a simple white brazier, it was just the type of woman she seemed to be.

In my mind the brazier fell away as she spoke to the woman at the ticketing counter. I traced the lines of her bare back with my minds eye. This was not a sexual image for me, despite my naive mind. The image was more of an erotic awakening for me. The first time seeing a woman as something more than sexual, this woman exposed to the world of sensuality.

The comfortable jeans this woman wore fell away and I discovered that her panties were simple white cotton, just as her brazier had been. I watched in awe as her legs came into view. Upper thighs led the way to the back of her knees and then further to her calves. I looked upon this woman with new eyes as I undressed her in my mind.

The panties fell away when I had studied every curve and shadow of her legs. The part of her buttock intrigued me, enthralled my mind and soul. My fear of my own new world kept me focused on this woman and her every curve and line.

The object of my study turned away from the counter and gave me a chance to partake of her front. Even more riveting than her back side, her front side sang to me like a siren’s song. I traced the dark circles of her nipples and over her stomach and the shadows there. I looked upon her as a student being taught the ways of the art of the female form. In fact, that was how it was, I, an eager pupil and she my teacher.

I looked down her stomach and into the neat patch of dark curls that rested gracefully on her pubic bone. I followed from her slender fingers over her arms and up onto her shoulders. I drank in that seemingly simple place where her neck met her shoulders. Her flesh seemed so delicate and fragile to my eyes, so…something.

I watched as she walked, her hair bouncing with every step. Her breast bounced in rhythmic time with her hair. The gentle stomach muscles of this woman danced a peaceful and serine dance as she commanded them to move in time with her legs as they strode toward their destination.

Her destination, as it would turn out was me. When this fact dawned on me a new kind of fear gripped me. She knew what I had been doing, she was upset with me for my mind’s wanderings. A part of me felt guilty for what my mental eyes had seen of her, I felt ashamed for looking at her in way that would make her feel uncomfortable.

The woman stopped directly in front of me and looked down upon me. I couldn’t bring myself to look up into her eyes and my own remained locked on the floor. I was terrified, almost to the point of an inability to convey the emotion.

She opened her mouth and spoke to me, I regretted what I had done and swore that I would never look upon another woman with the same eyes, “Excuse me, but do you have the time?”

I was astounded at her voice, it nearly knocked me to floor. Her words were uttered with the accent of a Scott. She was far from home and feeling lost, she was afraid of my world. I told her the time, looking up into her eyes.

What she did next has had be baffled and confused for the last three years. She winked at me and smiled a kind of wry smile. The woman returned to original seat and continued to await the arrival of our flight.

I have often wondered if she knew what I was up to, she had to have. Did she approve of my behavior or was she simply being polite? I was far too young for her at the time so I doubt that it was a sign of attraction. It simply was what it was.

I have never forgotten that woman and the lessons I learned from her simple inquiry to the ticket counter. That woman taught me how to appreciate the female form. The female form is undoubtedly the greatest of all of God’s creations.

A form so perfect and lovely, in all its forms, that no one can deny its beauty. It is so perfect that even other women can appreciate the grace and poise of it. It is what is; and so much more.

Ever since that moment in an airport terminal I have never looked upon women in the same way. I had never before seen the female form as something to be cherished and praised. I knew why the poems were penned and the songs were sung. I knew what it meant to see with eyes of a lover. I had learned the artistic song of the female form and I would never be the same.

It was all so clear to me then. I owe that woman so much. I have now learned enough of life and this cruel world to know what that basic encounter means in the scheme of things. If that woman is reading, which I doubt, thank you. I will never forget what you have done for me. I hope your return to your home was as great as mine, peace be with you, woman.