My favourite scene in that teens movie, Akeelah and the Bee is
when Javier kisses Akeelah on the cheek and when she asks, surprised,
why, he answers, "I got an impulse. You going to sue me for sexual
harassment?" It's a funny answer that makes both laugh and grows their
friendship.
That got me thinking about the beauty of impulse and
its quickening power. You meet this girl and like her smile but instead
of moving in and telling her immediately, you first want to go and wear a
perfume that she might actually find off-putting. Just like that, an
opportunity that could have led to great things is lost.
I once liked a girl so much that every time I saw her I wanted to reach out and touch her. There was something about her. She radiated inner beauty and carried herself with uncommon graciousness. Then there's a way she arrayed herself. With pure genius.
Every time I saw her I had to invoke every ounce of self-control in me to overcome the temptation of putting my arm around her tiny waist. I wanted to cradle her face in my palms and tell her, "Woman, you really are beautiful."
But I was afraid of being misconstrued. I was afraid of earning a slap. Then I decided drawing nearer her to merely enjoy the enveloping beauty of her presence would be enough for me. Alas! a faster guy arrived and made his intentions known and won her heart. I was left throwing my arms in the air in frustration, and many days after struggled to forget her face; the face that was now implanted in my mind like a tattoo.
Who knows what her answer to me might have been if I had told her spontaneously about the fire her beauty lit up in my belly. There's an old proverb that a hunter who dilly-dallied hit the tail instead.
I once liked a girl so much that every time I saw her I wanted to reach out and touch her. There was something about her. She radiated inner beauty and carried herself with uncommon graciousness. Then there's a way she arrayed herself. With pure genius.
Every time I saw her I had to invoke every ounce of self-control in me to overcome the temptation of putting my arm around her tiny waist. I wanted to cradle her face in my palms and tell her, "Woman, you really are beautiful."
But I was afraid of being misconstrued. I was afraid of earning a slap. Then I decided drawing nearer her to merely enjoy the enveloping beauty of her presence would be enough for me. Alas! a faster guy arrived and made his intentions known and won her heart. I was left throwing my arms in the air in frustration, and many days after struggled to forget her face; the face that was now implanted in my mind like a tattoo.
Who knows what her answer to me might have been if I had told her spontaneously about the fire her beauty lit up in my belly. There's an old proverb that a hunter who dilly-dallied hit the tail instead.
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