Guest Post :
Gift of sight.
Gift of sight.
You’ve heard the expression, “Blinded by the light.” Yet, some people walk in the dark their whole life—not because of too much light, and not due to physical blindness. Many of us take for granted the fact we can see. So, we zip by things without ever taking the time to appreciate them, whether a flower is in our way, a bird chirps at the window or even a butterfly flutters on our shoulder.
Truth is if someone were to ask me to name all the things I saw today, how many would I remember? What would stick in my mind, I wonder. I warn you, this exercise is an eye-opener. The task of remembering will bring you closer to your blindness, which is when you’ll realize the gift of sight lies not merely with your eyes, but with the mind of the beholder who wills himself to accept what he perceives.
Imagine a ten-year old child with sight into past, present, and future events. How will this color the world she lives in? What does she do if this sight takes over her environment and becomes what she remembers most?
Emma Willis inherited the gift of sight from her granny Dottie. At ten years old, this unwanted sight winds its way into her daily life and at times, paralyzes her with fear, until she begins to share her experience with two people she learns to love and trust. Two people who, although are aware of what Emma is going through, cannot relate with any sort of clarity with what this little girl endures. They are blinded by the glow she diffuses as they try to feel their way in order to identify a murderer before he strikes again.
The race is on to save Emma’s life and even though most people struggle with a lack of foresight, Emma will light their path to love, forgiveness, and she will blaze her own way to becoming a kid again.
Emma propels herself to her Aunt Franka’s hospital room.
Later that evening Emma still had the nose in her granny Dottie’s diary. She’d been hustled from Abigail’s place to the Marriott, had been asked to postpone her much awaited meeting with Amelia and through it all she’d kept on reading, learning what several generations of women had accomplished already.
She’d cried when she’d witnessed her grandmother’s shrieks about Franka, ranting about the place as though pacing and pulling her hair out would change anything. She’d hidden in her room terrified upon learning about Hank being hospitalized. The only solace she gathered came from the diary’s energy and all the information the teachings brought her. The book’s writings had kept her from falling apart. Generations of women that all had one specialty or another and here she seemed to be able to accomplish the lot of them.
Her grandmother was finally asleep. Earlier she’d left Emma with a police officer to go see Franka at the hospital. They didn’t think it was a good idea for Emma to be seen in public, so she’d stayed in her room.
Now at last the house was quiet and dark. She had to do something about her aunt Franka, one of her favorite people in the world.
She got up and tiptoed to the window. She’d tried to open it but hadn’t been able to do so. Didn’t matter. All she needed was to dress properly and carry the piece of paper filled with her notes inside her jacket’s pocket, to remember in case she forgot the thought and incantation to get home again. She gazed around the room one last time to imprint its familiarity in her mind. She removed the amulet she wore on a chain. She didn’t relish leaving the little oudjat behind, but with the precious stone close to her heart, she would be grounded and unable to lift off.
She whispered a little prayer, sat on the bed and crossed her arms as she placed a palm on each shoulder. Lift me away, oh Universe lift me away so I may fly to best serve a loved one. In her head she recited the address of the hospital and her aunt’s room number praying she would land in the right place.
Emma arrived in a room that was dark and quiet. Street sounds busy and frantic had her hoping she’d landed in the right place. She opened her eyes and stared at the pale white flask of an IV bag perched high on a pole as the phosphorescent glow caught the light of the moon’s crescent through the open curtain. Gently she approached the bed and gazed at her aunt’s face. Franka appeared peaceful and asleep, and she reached for her hand lying on top of the blanket.
“Aunt Franka?” Doctors said she’d fallen into a coma and all they could do was hope she might wake up. She took one of her hands in hers and rubbed it gently. “It’s okay, Aunt Franka. The bad man is gone. You’re going to be fine now.”
After cooing to her aunt for a few more minutes, a soft moan echoed her words. Franka opened her eyes. Immediately she began to cry as she stared right through Emma. “Emma,” she whispered. “I didn’t tell him where you are.”
“He’s gone, Aunt Franka. And I’m fine. He doesn’t know where I am.”