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Through the Eyes
by unknown
[short story]
The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read, beneath
the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree.
Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, for the world was
intent on dragging me down. And if that weren’t enough to ruin
my day, a young boy approached me, all tired from play. He stood right
before me with his head tilted down and said with great excitement,
“Look what I found!” In his hand was a flower, and what
a pitiful sight, with its petals all worn not enough rain, or too little
light.
Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play, I faked a small
smile and then shifted away. But instead of retreating he sat next to
my side and declared with overacted surprise, “It sure smells
pretty and it’s beautiful, too. That’s why I picked it;
here, it’s for you.” The weed before me was dying or dead,
not vibrant of colours: orange, yellow or red. But I knew I must take
it, or he might never leave. So I reached for the flower, and replied,
“Thanks, just what I need.” But instead of him placing the
flower in my hand, he held it mid-air without reason or plan. It was
then that I noticed for the very first time that weed-toting boy could
not see. He was blind.
I heard my voice quiver, tears shone in the sun. As I thanked him for
picking the very best one. “You’re welcome,” he smiled,
and then ran off to play, Unaware of the impact he’d had on my
day.
I sat there and wondered how he managed to see a self-pitying woman
beneath an old willow tree. How did he know of my self-indulged plight?
Perhaps from his heart, he’d been blessed with true sight.
Through the eyes of a blind child, at last I could see. The problem
was not with the world; The problem was me. And for all of those times
I myself had been blind, I vowed to see the beauty in life, and appreciate
every second that’s mine. And then I held that wilted flower up
to my nose and smiled as I watched that young boy, another weed in his
hand, about to change the life of an unsuspecting old man.