What is Beautiful?

Today I sat in the doctor's office and had to wait my turn. There were a lot of sick people in there, and those of us without insurance have to be especially patient. But we've grown accustomed to waiting, and the older I get, the more patient I've become. A mother brought her young daughter in who was full of energy. Frankly, I couldn't tell who was sick. This little girl was the color of the sun, with green-gray eyes that were inquisitive, and I could tell she gave her mother a run for her money. I smiled to myself. Twenty-one years ago, I was that mother. Peeling my son off of ceilings, writing checks to everyone for broken this and that, apologizing for every ravaged, chewed up, torn up, demolished thing in their homes until we just stopped going places cause we ran out of payola.

I am my mother now, bundled in sweeping sweaters. I have no time or patience for coats, buttons or zippers. I would rather wrap myself in things and be unwrapped, then be ensnared by contraptions. I travel with paper; I am always a writer. This beautiful Aaliyah was three chairs away from me, unable to talk, but able to stand and bellow at the sickly people across the room. Annoyed, they rolled their eyes at her. I laughed mom's inward chuckle. "Yes, child get on their nerves, cause you're not going to bother me." Her mother's eyes closed and I thought, "Oh, no, little sister. this isn't free daycare. Wake up and take care of this baby."
But Aaliyah had her charm. Being Mildred's daughter as I am, I gave Aaliyah the eyebrow that I have perfected, and I said in this scratchy voice that has become my own until five each evening, "There's no screaming when you're talking to me. You understand?" Necks clicked as heads turned. Who talks to a child like they're a person?
Aaliyah surprised everyone in the room but me. She nodded her one and a half year old head. "Get down off that chair and come here. I've got some paper for you to write on."
Little sister's head lolled. She was obviously the sick one. Aaliyah surprised me. Her eyebrow slid up. I thought, Oh, you're a smart one. You've been here before.
"Get down now."
No one spoke. This was a showdown of generations and I guess Aaliyah figured I didn't look that sick! Her bottom hit the seat and she came over to me. I rubbed her back and said, "You're the best girl in the world. Draw something for mama." Little sister had awakened, her mouth agape. Aaliyah was studying the construction of the pen. She took it into her left hand and stroked the paper. Ink appeared and she was glad! Her eyes lit up and I clapped. "You're amazing, Aaliyah. Draw something else for mama." She then tried her right hand and I could tell that felt better. Little sister dug tissue from her bag and wiped her tears. "She's never done this before."
They called my name, "Carmen Green?"
I stood up and tore the sheet from my pad and handed it to little sister. "Your daughter is smart. Teach her, she's ready to learn."
I have an ear infection. I left with amoxicillan, but my day was so much better because I'd been blessed by meeting a little girl named Aaliyah.

What is beautiful and how do you capture it in your writing? How do you depict beauty without saying she's beautiful? He's handsome?