on blind presence

quartet love

There were hundreds of parents and kids on the field. Walking among them I was engrossed in a game of I Spy in order to connect with my son before his first race.

I stopped to survey the t-shirt color groupings, looking for red. A boy of about twelve approached me looking frantic.

He asked, “Have you seen my blind grandmother?”

I stared at him.  His eyes were striking.  The kind that make you look twice or just a second longer than normal.  I paused because the question sounded like a joke but his franticness was real.  I tried to determine if he needed help or whether he was concerned about his grandmother, maybe distraught that she may not ‘see’ him when it was time to run.

Our dialogue:

Me:                              Can she see at all?

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