The Most Beautiful Person

 

                                 

The Most Beautiful Person

Evelyn Rodriguez-Lallave

 

 

“And how shall they preach,

except they be sent? As it is written,

How beautiful are the feet of them

that preaches the gospel of peace,

and bring glad tidings of good things!”

 

 

Beauty- Spiritual Ro. 10:15                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

 

             Beauty involves more than just physical appearance. It is a sum of different characteristics that makes someone pretty or not so pretty. That is why I think that one of the most beautiful persons I know is my mother. And even though she is getting older I can still see the brightness in her eyes when she smiles, and that brightness makes her look years younger.

 

Her curly and long brown hair with hints of silver gives her an air of elegance and respectability, and her light-brown eyes stands out on her fair white face. I can see some wrinkles on her aging face now, but that is also part of her beauty. She is a loving, caring and understanding person, which makes her even more pretty.

  

Sadly, it’s been almost four month since she is no longer in this world with us, but I like to talk about her in the present, because I feel she is with me every single day. I talk to her and I feel she is somewhere, standing nearby, looking and listening to me. I close my eyes and I see her eyes smiling back at me. I also see the same peaceful look on her face that I saw on the months before she passed away. 

 

I recall, as if it were today, minutes ago, combing her then short hair with silver natural highlighted strands, and her hair looked more grayish than ever before. Her eyes looked more tired and hollowed than before, but they were still smiling at me like they always did. And I remember myself telling her how pretty she looked with her short grayish hair and her beautiful brown eyes.

 

I said, “Mom, you look like the American women in Florida, your short hair is very pretty Ma.” That made her smile. That day, her eyes looked sad but they were still beautiful in a melancholic kind of way.

                                                      

My mother is very beautiful and not because of how she looks but because of how she is. Her beauty is not only physical but also spiritual, more spiritual now than ever since she is not physically with us.

She left this world on August 30th, 2002 at 5:00 a.m., and when I saw her that same morning she looked like an angel to me. She was wearing a light pink dress, and was lying down in a big white coffin with gold trims and pink roses on top of it. I was not expecting that. I had gone there to actually order her coffin in the event that that happened and she would leave us, since her cancer was terminal and there wasn’t much time.

 

After my shock passed, I placed a yellow rose by her so she would know she was taking with her part of me. It’s not a tradition to do that, I just felt the need to give her something, since she gave me and my siblings the best of her when she was alive. I wish we had given her more. But we gave her lots of love. And she knew it and appreciated it all in her soft beautiful heart.

 

So my mother is and will always be the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.   To my beloved mother, Carmen Rodriguez, Mama, descanza en paz! (Rest in Peace). I miss you with all my heart. I will eventually see you again, in heaven.    

 

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When an Angel Touched Me by Evelyn Rodriguez

Short novel by Evelyn Rodriguez
Script Frenzy project.
© Copyright 2014 Evelyn Rodriguez.

Scene I-

(It was pretty dark and raining. A girl seating on the steps of a Spanish colonial church was trying to avoid getting soaked and tried to kept herself warm. Not an easy task for a small runaway girl, who was now homeless. Her mother was very poor and her step father used to beat and abused them. She kept asking her mother to leave him, but she wouldn’t. So Celeste took her only treasure, her small rag doll and left her home one early morning. She kept walking the unpaved streets of her country side town until once it got dark she reached the outskirts of a nearby city named Wonder City. An urban legend told of a bridge with a troll and human angels roaming the streets of Wonder City in form of Vigilantes. She was not afraid, but curious of all of it. Her vivid imagination told her that could be true. And that she would be safer dealing with a gang of Believers as they were called than dealing with her step father and her mother.

(She is dressed in rags, barefooted and holding her torn doll in her arms.

The light it’s deeming but focusing on the girl of undefined age. Her name is Celeste. She is walking on the sidewalk with her head down, long strings of greasy curled dark hairs falling over her face and covering the right side, almost hiding both of her eyes.)

Celestia “Rough sad day!”, she is telling her doll, “My hands are frozen. I wish we could have a warm bed to sleep in or at least have a fire to sit in front of in this frozen night. Oh Lucy, as she called her rag companion, if only I could have my parents by my side. My mom and my real dad. If only we can all be happily together.”

She sights and holds her doll stronger and says to her. “You see tears running down from my face, like peaceful streams, I can’t contain. Tear of pain.” Suddenly her face and eyes are covered in tears as she looks at the stars and sights again.

Celeste-“But don’t worry Lucy! I know father is watching us from his star. And probably mommy will come for me and find us soon! We just have to be brave and spend another night here, near the troll’s bridge, but we will be fine. I feel it. Lucy- “Don’t cry my little girl!” (Girl and doll hugs each other as a soft lullaby plays in the background. And there there’s a foreground image of Celeste, as a baby, her dad and her mother all hugging each other and staring lovingly down to a now young Celeste.

Her mother used to sing to her lullabies whenever Celeste was afraid. But she stopped to avoid her new husband’s anger fits. He would yell, or call her names each time he heard them singing. He hated the sound of their voices. He hated everything. To Celeste he was an evil one eye ogre. Coincidentally he had lost one eye during a war he once had to go to.

(Closing her eyes little Celeste starts drifting asleep and the lights shuts off.)

Scene II-

 

(Streak of lights coming down from a blinking star illuminates her face as it gets brighter and brighter.)

Celeste: (Yawning) “Papa, is it daylight yet?,” Suddenly she exclaims, “Oh. Sorry!.”

She sees a beautiful nice woman standing in front of her

Nice Lady- “Don’t be afraid my little girl! I’m a Faerie and I was sent to you to tell you that no matter how lonely and hungry you are now, we would be watching you and no harm will come to you. Your mother loves you. You know? And she wanted me to tell you that. Here is a small present from us!

(Out of nowhere the lady gets a sturdy but beautiful blanket and gently places over Celeste’s shoulders)

(Celeste: Rubbing her eyes in disbelieve and stretching her little arms.) Celeste- “Pretty nice lady! Please don’t go! Take me to my mother, please, pretty lady! I’m so sorry! I am scared and afraid. I’m hungry too. I just want to go back home. I haven’t eaten a warm meal in months now.”

Crying, she puts her head down over her knees and holding the blanket closer to her. (Celeste keeps crying and mumbling until she falls asleep again. The full moon glows like a bright bluish light over the church walls, behind Celeste, blinding Celeste awake.)

Celeste- “What is this?

She stands up and jump and grabbing a small wooden torch near her she touches the walls, passing them trough with the empty hand like if she were a ghost. She sees trough it. There she observes a large room filled with deliciously prepared foods and morsels, and a Christmas three with colorful lights.

Under the tree she sees a figurine of the pretty nice lady she had seen before. It’s the Virgin Mary. The nice lady is holding a small child in her arms while she is greeted by few pastors, animals of all sorts, and three rich kings. A handsome bearded man, who looks like her own dad is standing near the lady. And all of them waive at her almost like welcoming her to their gathering.

Up in heaven a bright star is shinning in all of it splendor, so bright like diamonds. She smiles happily as she tries to touch them. The light from the star illuminates the whole room, but she can‘t touch them or see them anymore. Everything becomes pitch black and foggy.

Celeste- “Something is burning. I can see the smoke, and smell the fire near by. To close, that my cheeks feels warm, my forehead is sweaty, the palms of my hands too. Lucy!. Lucy, where are you?

(Celeste, feeling warm, suffocated, confused, and exhausted, closes her eyes drifting away and falls asleep again.

 

Scene III-

(Bells are ringing on the Church. It’s 6:00 AM.) The loud church bells wakes up Celeste, as passerby stare indifferently at her. To them she is nothing, insignificant, zero. Some looks at her with petty, others stare with disdain, but non with love, or compassion, like a true Christian should. They are all going into the church. Only few children look back at her.

She rubs her eyes, passes a hand through her to long mane and gets up on her feet. She then looks around and see a dog playing with her doll in his mouth. She screams at him and picks up her doll now lying on her feet, and with her dirty doll covered up in slobbered she walks alone, down a red brick street.

People can hear her sobbing as she rubs her eyes and tummy but no one offers her the slightest bit of food, not even a piece of bread.

—- (The light deems down as her small image turns into a shadowed light and then disappears like a shooting star in the distance.)

Meanwhile inside the church a chorus of small angels and cherubin sing along the humans who saw the sad and hungry little girl and did nothing for them. Most of them leave their podiums to eat bread and wine, Jesus body and blood. No one was even thinking of the hungry girl they saw outside. 

To Be Continued…

 

Read on and visit me again for more from “When the Angel Touched Me.” Evie