The Gift of Sight

It was warm on the day I received my gift, and the long, unending miles of interstate between Los Angeles and Albuquerque had long since taken their toll on my precocious, prepubescent patience.

As so, as we settled ourselves before burgers and fries beneath the golden arches, I was more than willing to exorcise my irritability by imposing it on others.

“So, is this where we stay tonight?” I asked without preamble “…or have we got to cover Texas too?”

My parents, brain-dead from traveling with one as clever as I, just turned to each other and sighed. It had been a long day for them as well. My wit and wisdom had fallen on deaf ears.

The picture of a rock star, cute as a button, and already able to stir my innocent heart, fell out of my children’s meal. I scanned it dully for a moment, then the perfect instrument of parental torture came to mind.

“Mom,” I began, “Do you think Dad’s cute?”

My mother sat quietly for a moment, hoping perhaps that I’d take pity and give her a reprieve. Then, glancing uncomfortably my way she replied “Well, I think so. But, it’s been a long time since I looked at him with my eyes.”

Well, that was the spark I’d been waiting for, a moment of hilarity to levy perfect karma upon my parents for this torturous trip.

With a laugh that can only be created by the truly gifted, I sat down my burger and fixed a stare at my weary parents. “Well, what you look at him with then!” I shot back, hoping to catch them in one of those adult cover-ups that parents are so fond of dumping on their offspring.

Then something both uncharacteristic and unexpected happened. My mother opened her mouth to reply, but all that escaped her lips was the closed silence of one who has been suddenly and inextricably stricken dumb. I grinned in victory, my dart had scored a hit! But, as the moments ticked by, and her expression deepened, I gazed at her flushed, deer-in-the-headlights expression and grew silent.

Long minutes passed, until her struggle on my behalf finally yielded a single tear from her glazed and misted eyes.

Finally, ever her guardian angel, my father took her hand in his and placed a kiss in her palm.

“With her heart,” he responded, his voice soft and eternal.

They gazed at each other then, their silence saying more than words ever could, the truth filling the void like a bright and shining affirmation.

I was silent. Dumbfounded. My clever repartee vanished, lost within the beauty that had filled our little facet of the world. It was then I knew that somewhere beyond my “secret sauce” I had found one of life’s glowing perfections. I had discovered what it was to be totally and thoroughly loved…not the kind that the modern world settles for, but the kind inspired by the words“‘til death do us part”.

Three tiny words, but carrying the true measure of love…a clarity of vision that seeks beyond the façade to the pure heart that lies behind. To them had been given the “gift of sight”. I knew at that moment, I would never settle for less.

Long years have passed, and my parents are now holding hands through eternity. The flowers he brought her, just to see her smile, are now in full and perpetual bloom, far beyond the veil of mortality. He holds her eternally in the palm of his hands until the end of time.

I look now at the man who lies beside me, his raucous nocturnal overture rattling the window panes. He has captured all of the blankets once more, and his arm has flung itself across my pillow. How long before he discovers that the “thinning” patch behind his graying head has lost its battle with time, and that it’s not possible to punch another hole in his worn, leather belt?

I roll away and try to will myself to sleep…and then I see it. A single rose, tucked innocently in an empty soda bottle. The same one I saw him pick this afternoon before coming in to find a bandage for his wounded thumb.

Just to make me smile.

I turn back and press my lips against his…a tiny kiss that only God can see. Then, curling beneath his arm I listen to the rhythmic beat of his pure and loving heart.

I close my eyes, and with the gift of perfect of sight I behold the man I have chosen to spend the rest of eternity beside.

“Thank you,” I whisper for that precious gift, given so long ago.

Then, smiling, I fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.