Seeing is Believing
I opened my eyes and sat up, my body reacting instinctively to wake up at the time it does every day. With a stretch and a rub of encouragement to my eyes, still blurry with sleep, I reached for a blanket and stealthily escaped the confines of my room. Years of practice made the climb out of my bedroom window effortless, and my mind counted each branch my feet touched, the only noises breaking the silence arising from the moans of the tree being bothered while resting.
With a slight rocking, I slid the blanket into one hand while using the other as force to jump down. The cool, malleable earth filled the spaces between my toes, and I sighed with relief for another safe descent despite the darkness. Step one complete, next came the trek. Twenty steps forward, one step to the right while turning to avoid the thorn bush, three steps forward, one bound over the piece of wood covering the creek, two paces to the right and with a touch to rough bark, one perfect seat for the coming show.
Facing east, this adult oak tree on our property gave an immaculate view of the nearing sunrise while providing protection against the windows of the house. Leaning back into the tree, I settled my breathing, knowing Dad would still be shaking the house with snoring, utterly unaware of my daily routine.
Now to wait. Precisely three minutes and seven seconds until the easel of the sky began to flourish with color. Similar to the movie previews, this time prior to the show allowed me to get comfortable against the tree's stump, bask in the early morning silence, and count, eagerly spanning the range of my eyesight in hopes of seeing the first crack in the night's armor.
Slowly, the birds began to ease into a melodic chorus, beckoning the sun to welcome the skyline with their passionate love song. Once the commencement alarm sounded, the sky king graced the kingdom with his radiant presence. As if the king were a Matryoshka doll, he slowly relinquished his layers, shedding his cloak of dark violet to reveal a gown of burgundy and amber. I followed suit with the other commoners with eyes transfixed upon the sight before us, fascinated by the splendor of the unfolding scene. A magnetic connection tethered me to the king and I leaned away from the tree, yearning for the east. When the king stood up and his golden crown lit the sky, the birds and various creatures around me gasped, completely taken aback by the sheer beauty. Its golden sparkle extended welcome arms to the world, the mystical shine reflecting off of every surface around me. Slowly I exhaled, finally noticing the breath I was holding, and thanked the skies above for the unadulterated beauty of this world.
Watching the kaleidoscope of earthy tones return to their rightful owners, my eyes scanned over the lengths of our property. Our land was its own ecosystem, filled with vegetation, a naturally purified stream, and a dense forest. Narrowing in on the forest, my eyes connected with the split tree of my youth.
It was the summer after my 11th birthday, and my neighbor Noah was spending time with me while our parents were having dinner together. The afternoon was filled with warmth and cheerful sunshine, but as the day drew on, a storm began building up strength. As if a switch flipped, the weather changed directions, darkening the sky from a bright aqua to charcoal almost instantaneously.
"Gwen!" Noah yelled. "We have to get out of here." He took my hand in his, and with the idea of protection from the powerful showers, we ran, jumping over rocks and branches but never breaking our connection. Once under the cover of the forest, we huddled near the closest tree stump and waited.
I could feel our rapid heartbeats joining in unison to create a pulse pumping more fear than blood. When the first boom of thunder reached the forest I jumped, its sound breaking the hum of rain against the earthly floor. These rumbles were soon accompanied by flashes of lightning, edging closer and closer to our tree with each strike. Normally fearless, Noah tensed beside me. We often played pretend, our foes starred by dragons and mystical beings, but never by an intimidating black monster holding a trident of electricity.
"I've never seen a storm like this," I said, unsure of how far my voice would travel with the earsplitting storm.
"We've had bad ones, but never like this, I just hope it settles—" he began, but was interrupted by the monster. With a crack, the lightning strike pounded into the forest, narrowly missing us by mere feet. I yelped, but any fear was drown out by the strike, its target was the tree across from us. The resulting charge split the trunk in half.
We stared in awe at the horribly intriguing sight—similar to a car crash—our eyes were glued to the scene. Soon the stormy monster exited, but Noah and I remained under the tree, huddled together and paralyzed after the terrifying experience. Never in my life had I seen anything like it before, how the white light crashed into the dark trunk, the deafening crack, and the sizzle that continued to smoke even after the contents of the trunk were splayed open by the light saber.
Frozen in place, the only escape from the forest came from our parents, who shined flashlights through the darkness, frantically shouting the names we had been too shocked to hear before. The beam connected with my pupils, kicking me out of the trance and into the safe, warm arms of my father.
Sunshine pierced my eyes once again and I was brought back into reality, the gorgeous sunlight now coming into focus. Early morning rays sprinkled their luster onto every piece of earth, and I lifted myself from the ground, stretching and allowing my heart to fully expand with the joy of such a lovely beginning to the day.
"Gwen! Gwen!"
I instantly looked around, expecting to see Noah calling my name from across the field. My name was called three more times, and knowing my dad would wake up from the shouting, I ran in the direction of the noise, the landscape surrounding the house becoming a blur as I searched for Noah. I didn't understand, where was he?
"Noah? Noah, where are you?" I pleaded, just wanting to see his face. Silence set back into the field and as I put my hands over my head in frustration, I closed my eyes, wondering what was going on.
After a few breaths, I reopened my eyes, expecting to see the trickster by my side, laughing at how seriously I was taking his joke. But I was wrong, incredibly wrong. When I opened my eyes, I saw darkness. Once again I repeated the process, blinking nervously, anxious to understand the situation. Nothing. Why is it so dark?
"Gwen, hey, it's time to wake up, okay?" the silky familiar voice asked.
"Noah? Noah, where are you?" My words were escaping as quivers, echoing my vulnerability.
A soft hand touched mine, and as its warmth spread into me, I ached to see Noah, wondering what trick he was pulling on me and to tell him that it was not funny, but again nothing. "Noah, why is it so dark? I just saw the most beautiful sunrise, how can it still be so dark?"
For a moment it was silent, then slowly, Noah responded, softly tracing his fingers around the inside of my palm. "Gwenie, it was a dream, the same dream you have had every night. Dr. Madison says this is expected with such trauma, but after a few more weeks of medication, that they should slow down." His voice was different, calm and still caring, but nothing like in the dream.
"But Noah I don't—" I started. Then it hit me. In a moment the levee broke, all the memories rushing towards me, and causing my breath to hitch with shock. "I forgot. How could I possibly forget?"
"Again, he said it was to be expected at first. But hey," I could feel a smile easing onto his face, "as long as you remember me that's what matters." His soft lips fluttered a kiss onto my forehead, and immediately my anxiety evaporated.
"Watch it, tough guy. I can get around enough to kick your butt." I smiled, but inside wondered how different life would be now that it was devoid of color, nothing but darkness.
As if reading my thoughts, Noah responded. "You still up for sitting outside for the sunrise? As long as you don't mind my narrating, of course."
Even without sight and the ability for roaming and adventure, I knew I would be okay. "Yes I would love that," I answered.
Holding Noah's hand in mine, I rose from bed, stretching and rubbing my eyelids out of habit although I knew no sight would return. Unlike my last sunrise before the accident, I did not take the path down my tree, choosing instead to hold my blanket and walk to the porch in front of my house.
With a slight bending, I slid the blanket into one hand while using the other supported by Noah to sit down into the swing. My feet conformed to the cool floorboards, and I sighed with relief feeling the sunrise quickly approaching. Precisely three minutes and seven seconds later, Noah took a deep breath, and then began to speak.
"The king is now making his entrance into the kingdom…"