Like a Blind Child
Aliceat Seventeen: Like a Blind Child
One summer afternoon, I learned my body like a blind child leaving a walled school for the first time. Stumbled from cool hallways to a world dense with scent and sound — pines roaring in the sudden wind like a huge chorus of insects.
I felt the damp socket of flowers touched weeds riding the crest of a stony ridge and the scrubby ground cover on low hills. Haystacks began to burn, smoke rose like sheets of translucent mica over the stretched wires of wheat as I lay in the overgrown field listening to the shrieks of small rabbits bounding beneath my skin.
And the air hummed over the stretched wires of wheat as if I were sitting on a beach, looking out toward the horizon where vast hills crunched like soil into earth that was already saturated with dirt and moisture. The sun burned off my skin turning it soft and life began to find its way back home, alive and breathing.
And the world around me changed, as if a new beginning had come to pass. From the cold halls of school I had left behind came a world of vibrant greenery that shimmered with the light of day — a place where plants whispered secrets to birds and where the gentle hum of earthy life gave a sense of hope through the chaos.
It was an experience as beautiful, as profound as Alice at Seventeen, but it also felt as different. It wasn’t just a visit to school; it was a journey through time itself, showing how much we have changed and what remains constant.
As I sat on that grassy bench reflecting over the fire, my thoughts began to blur into infinity. For this day had been just one — but it was more than just a story. It had been a reminder of the power of human connection, the strength of love, and the beauty of life itself.
And with that, I knew that this journey had not only changed me physically but also emotionally. It had brought new possibilities, and it would be forever etched in my soul as a testament to the resilience of even the most resistant beings.
