10

Ah another day to ride the old bike around porter park, but not after taking pictures in a beautiful old tub with Goose, pretending we were sailing the seas with oars of fly swatters.
Today, instead of going straight home after the park, we kept riding and felt which way to turn at every street. There is something almost magical when you let your spirit be tugged in the direction it needs to go. As we were winding through the streets, we saw a confused traveler going about in circles. K and I stared and asked each other what to do. We decided to take action and peddled over to this fellow. Turns out our new friend had taken the wrong turn leaving his apartment and did not know where he was. We quickly jumped off our bikes to help this young man find his way. He told us of growing up and how he was majoring in communications to be a camera man of sorts. He was even able to tell me when a stick broke in the spokes of my bike. As we dropped J off at the door and watched as the many colors of the beautiful Idaho sunset fad into the night, we began to cry. Our wonderful friend had been blind since birth. Here we were taught a lesson of gratitude. Even though he was without sight, he taught us artists what it was like to see. He was cheery, held wonderful conversation and beamed with delight about what he was to do in the future. He only saw darkness with his literal eyes, but saw light with everything he did. Just at the beginning of the ride was my head hung low, and my heart hurting, and my eyes not seeing the beauty around me. Never again will I go about looking at the sky and seeing the trees wave in the wind and not try to soak up every moment.