On the usual walk down to school from up the hill where my house sat, dusty trumpet case in one hand, and jacket wrapped tightly to combat the ensuing winter nip, a glint of shimmer caught my eye.
In the morning light and brightened by beams fighting to remain free of the clouds they'd just defeated, I saw a leaf.
An icy sheen coated its veined skin and tiny, frosty crystals reflected the signs of early morning dew, which took responsibility for its current beauty. Naturally, I picked it up.
What happened then is the lesson I recall.
Slipping my fingers under its cold crust, I was shocked at the uncomfortable chill of my leaf-laden hand. Up close, the gem seemed ordinary, soggy like the rest, which lined the suburban sidewalks. Dull even.
I flipped it over.
The backside, once a crisp and familiar green, was mid-transformation in emanating the beautifully golden hues of autumn. Lacking the glamor of chilly glitter, it seemed now to be the more genuine, more raw and natural side.
It was this thought- what I had deemed beautiful by quick and sudden judgment, what had the power to initially catch my little eye, had turned sodden in a instant- and its backside, which I took no notice of at all, held the truth to its undiscovered beauty. I remember thinking, all those years ago, how wrong I had been, how cold the beauty I'd deemed best really was, and what hidden allure lie within, bursting with invisible potential, if only one chose to see beyond what seemingly was.
