Blinded -- Part 2

The salt air was pungently refreshing, almost to the point of distraction. He had been blind for a while now, but he needed to focus on listening. Every "click-click" of his walking stick told him that he could continue in a straight line. Any sort of a muffled thud meant he was veering off the concrete and onto the sand. Eventually, he hoped his ears would become sensitive enough to allow him free rein of the entire beach. Now, however, he had to concentrate.

He waved the walking stick side to side in wide strokes as he walked swiftly. A slow gait made the stick useless, he learned, especially if dumb luck could get you there faster. So he became a roving, human radar, walking parallel to the shore but several hundred yards back. The man heard only the movement of the surf in between the clicks of his metronome. Finally, there was a sharp "thwack!" He had reached the first leg of the first wooden bench along the walk. At this point, he turned and faced straight out toward the water.

As usual, they arranged to meet 20 strides from that bench. The man noticed that he was starting to make those strides longer on the days he knew she would be there. However, that wasn't the biggest thing he noticed about himself on that day.

For the first time in a long time, he smiled for no reason. Then he heard the laugh. It was good-natured. The woman's laugh had a tone in it that was genuine, never demeaning. Her laugh was friendly. It was warm, and sweet. The man continued forward a couple of steps and he could feel the sand sink down under his feet differently than it had before. It moved more cohesively, sort of as one unit. He realized he was standing on her blanket.

"It's good to see you smiling," she said. "Come, sit you down."
As he proceeded to sit down, the man said, "Sun's setting."
"Perceptive..." She giggled, again good-naturedly, but with an implicit question.
"The pick-up in the wind is obvious, even to you," he responded, "but there's also a swell in the noise of the birds and the warmth of the sun strikes us differently, lower on our cheeks."
"You know you're right," she said, "I can hear the birds and feel the sun."
"Hard to believe it, but I enjoy the beach more, now that I'm blind, than I used to."
"I knew you would."
"You get up right by the shore break, and you can smell that smell and feel that mist on your face, and then the water slides under your toes and you can feel the sand all around them and squish them into it."
"Just wait 'til we get you swimming!"
"One thing at a time, my dear," he said with a smile. "I'm smiling for no reason and enjoying the pleasure of nature for its own sake... take your victory."
"Oh, twist my arm."
"I'll bet this is some sunset."
"It's going to be beautiful."
"I can just see that orangey-yellow sun, clear as day."
"How wonderful it is, now, knowing what a sunset at the beach means."

Sometime later, with the ocean a deep shade of blue and light sprinkling off of it, pink clouds breaking up the vivid sky, the sun began its final descent. The woman described every bit of it to the man, just as he asked. They laid together on their beach blanket, with his arm over her shoulder and her head on his chest. The waves crashed and the wind swirled. The salt continued to fill the air and the birds continued to sing. Both of them kept their faces pointed toward the sun, to feel its warmth and anticipate the last images of its setting.

Finally, the sun did set while they continued to enjoy the peaceful feeling.

He asked, "Do you think I'll ever be glad this happened?"

"We'll get there," she said. "Remember, it's one victory at a time."