Who was BēbēJoon?

There was a dark wrinkled spot on her right cheek, on that meaty area, right below her eye. I never asked her how she got it. it was hidden behind her big round glasses. My grandmother, BēbēJoon, was like a trunk of an old tree: solid, protective, tough, proud and heavy. There was a sweet bitterness in her eyes that wasn’t understood. Every line on her face held thousands of secrets and stories that she never got a chance to share.

BēbēJoon was beautiful, but I could sense that she did not feel beautiful. I wish I could see her once more to kiss that wrinkled dark spot on her face. I’d hold her chin up and ask her to tell me all her shames, her secrets, her stories. I’d look right into her eyes and tell her “BēbēJoon, you are just perfect the way you are.”

We’re often told stories about what is beautiful and what is not. But stories are fiction. I believe it’s time to tell a new story, one where we kiss our dark spots instead of covering them, touch the lines on our face instead of hiding them, and uncover our stories instead of concealing them.