Capture

He once heard his mother say to him "Beauty is something you feel, not something you see."

He never understood what she said, as she sat on the worn-out, coffee stained couch in their living room while he played with his box of legos at age 12. He was at an age of a young, often described as immature, mind and many of her words left him puzzled. One thing he did know at that time was he never felt beautiful. When he saw himself, he saw so many things he wanted to replace. He pondered about what would it be like if his nose was longer, or if he looked good with straighter hair like the guy next to him in science class. Because, in his mind, he was an embodiment of imperfection.

He observed his class, looking for people he felt were beautiful. There were a few girls that kind of fit that category. That one girl a few rows in front of him with milk-white skin and wavy brown hair, or the one that sits near the window with long eyelashes and plush lips. They were beautiful enough.

But they didn't give much answers. So he had another conversation with his mom.

"Mom, I don't really get it."

"Get what?"

"What is beautiful. You said that it's something you feel but, well, I don't get what beautiful feels like. Like, there are lots of pretty girls in my class but I just don't feel anything."

With those words she laughed and let out a sight. Then she gestured to the window and took a look at the sky.

"Tell me, does that feel beautiful?"

It was a sunny day, the sun spurt rays of heat through the half-open windows. The sky was a saturated shade of blue with splatters of white, thin clouds. The big trees in the backyard gave shade to the scorching afternoon sun and brought calm.

"Yeah, I guess it does."

"Why?"

He pondered on that question. "I don't know... It just feels.." It wells him up with warmness, it washes him up with comfort to his skin. The pleasant feelings wrap him up and he could just flutter his eyes closed and manage a small smile. "Nice."

"Exactly."

He was left a dazed. As he continued to mature, he searched for things that felt beautiful. He never found many in his life as the face he saw everyday as he looked at spoons and ponds and car windows was a reflection of himself. Every time he saw himself in a mirror, he wanted to smash it. At age 17, he was a typical picture of a high school kid. His back hunched while doing the 12 page essays his teachers assigned to him, scribbling empty words on to the sheets, blocking out all the sounds and words from the outside. From all the back-hunching and essay-writting, he wore himself out as his eyes started losing colour. He saw his baggy eyes, his acne-stricken face, his ghastly spiky hair, his dead eyes with a lack of life and he could never know when he would see himself as beautiful. And he was sure no one ever will see him that way either. No one ever appreciated him, in his mind everyone saw him as garbage. They whisper nasty words into each others ears about how much of a waste he is. They think their words were only audible to themselves, but he knows everything. He was horrid. The world around him thought he was horrid. His mind was in a constant storm, one horrific thought overlapping the other. He felt a need to feel beauty, to fill his world with beautiful things. At age 17, he kept on looking.

Every time he saw something beautiful, he wanted to capture it. He wanted to remind himself of all these beautiful things in his life, to forget all the darkness and monstrosity surrounding him. He wanted to make them a distraction. So around 15 or so, he bought a simple DSLR camera with the money he's been saving. His parents once asked him why he suddenly got into photography. He simply told them it was just a passing interest, but it really wasn't. He brought his camera to places. He took pictures of the cityscape from the school's roof, the squirrels that like to stop by atop of the trees in the backyard, the blue sky that his mother liked to gaze into in blank saturday afternoons. It sort of became a hobby to him.

High school felt almost like a passing wind to him. The days went on like seconds with him sitting in class, his face glued to the desk as the teacher spoke on and on. He got used to the whispering and the horrid thoughts. He had found things to distract him from them. But then he realized something. His life was becoming grey, with only his photographs keeping it from being dull.

It was a rather cloudy day at that time. Grey clouds were hunching together, brewing a storm. He was walking home from school with his folder in his hands. He was planning to finish his project at home so he brought it with him. He stopped by the bus stop where he woukd take off. And there she was.

From the very first day they met, he knew she was a distruptor, like how she stood in the midst of the grey clouds in her bright yellow dress. When she smiled at him, he knew indeed she was going to be a hurricane.

He never understood why she would fall for a monstrosity like him, still sporting that spiky hair and baggy eyes. But she was something else. She defined a new definition of 'pretty' with her light brown locks falling on her shoulders, sometimes tied into a messy bun, her warm brown eyes and the dozens of freckles decorating her plump face. She had a love for crappy pop songs, white furry puppies, ridiculously bright coloured dresses and an unhealthy addiction for starbucks. He became somewhat reclusive since 17 and didn't bother much with social interaction but she was there to pull him into a circle nearly everywhere she goes. She leaps without thinking and when he falls back a few steps behind, she will wait patiently as he catches up.

His life that has been calm, grey, dull was splattered with yellows, reds, blues. His life became a mess. But she assured him that it was going to be alright, as she took him by the hands on a July 20th, led him on top of a hill and they laid on the grass. That night they gazed at the two stars besides the bright city lights in the distance and tied their bonds with 'I love you' s. It was loud, it was raging, it was calm, it was comforting.

They turned 18, and then 20, and then 30. They got married sometime at 25, had Owen around 27. As Owen blew his 6 candles on his birthday, at age 33, he finally understood what his mother said to him 21 years ago. He understood what it means to feel beauty. Because she is the first sight he saw in the morning, rays of brightness in her eyes like the morning sun. She was the calm winds, she was a hurricane. She is the anchor, keeping boats steady through crashing waves. She is like the stars, together with the moon, guiding the pitch black nights. She is everything he wanted to hold dear. She is the young woman standing beside the craddle, rocking their second child, Samantha, to sleep as she wears her bright yellow dress, her light brown locks tied up into a messy bun. Her name is Audrey. She is beautiful. And he never wanted to let her go.

Joshua wanted to hold the tight the things that reminded him of the beauty life can offer. He collected the mementos through photograps with his DSLR camera, occasionally with his smartphone he bought a few weeks ago. And so, on Samantha's 3rd bithday, Audrey gave her best smile for the camera.