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Blind

He barks and I try to find him. It’s hard to.

When I finally do I reach down and pet him softly. He nuzzles my hand. I wonder what the color of his hair is.

I guess I’ll never know.

I kneel down and start to cry from frustration. I can’t see my dog. I wish I could.

He barks again, sensing my pain.

I think about how glorious sight must be. I have never seen a melted ice-cream cone on a hot summer afternoon. Never a frozen lake on a snowy day in December. I’ve never seen anything.

Then I remember my hands. My sense of touch. The only thing I have left.

I reach down again to pet my dog softly. He nuzzles my hand. I wonder what the color of his hair is.

I still don’t know. I don’t think I ever will. But at that moment I realize that I can see through my hands.

I can see through my hands.

My eyes have failed me but these hands never will.





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