A Storm is ComingI close my eyes sometimes when I climb the stairs at night.  I don’t know why.  I fumble a bit for each step, but ultimately know that they’re there.  It feels strangely comforting to know, regardless of the shadows, even when I can’t see, if I count on my instincts, my eyes can’t play tricks on me.

Sometimes I think I do it for my son.  He can’t climb the stairs at all.  I take moments, now and then, to challenge myself to see the world through his eyes so I can better understand how he might see things one day.  No, he’s not blind, but how else can I try to understand without rendering myself completely immobile.

I was once legally blind.  Without my glasses I was constantly fooled by the figures that loomed around me.  I often closed my eyes back then hoping that what I felt might be more accurate than what I saw.

I had my eyes corrected.  After two excruciating surgeries I could see without assistance.  I could wake without fear and rush off to the bathroom or go to my baby without fumbling for assistance.  I was liberated.

Now, I look at my children and wonder what they will need liberation from.  I wonder if their handicaps will be more physical or mental.  I wonder if technology will afford them the miracle I received when my sight was restored.

I will always, everyday, remember what it felt like to have to climb the stairs in the dark.  And every once in a while, when the lights are on, I will close my eyes to remind myself that I am privileged to climb them in the light.