Leesha was feeling a little shack happy. Her three-day visit with her father and stepmother had stretched to a week, and they’d mostly spent that time indoors. So, when her older brother dropped by and Dad had suggested the three of them take a walk, Leesha had jumped at the prospect.
Dad had lost his sight a few years before. The doctors had told him it was something called choroidal sclerosis. Despite becoming blind in his forties, he stayed active and had learned his way around his neighborhood, counting steps. He amazingly always knew where he was, even as a passenger in the car.
As they stepped out the door, Dad said, “It’s chilly. Do you have your jackets on?”
Jackson hadn’t taken his off when he came in. Leesha, thinking it wasn’t that cold, didn’t want to bother going back in for hers.
“Yeah, Dad. I grabbed it on the way out,” she said, just this once taking advantage of her dad’s inability to see.
Jackson shot her a filthy look, saying, “No, she doesn’t. “
Mortified, and ashamed, Leesha excused herself to go get her jacket. When she returned, everybody acted like nothing had happened, but Leesha walked with her head down the whole way, knowing she had betrayed her father.
This story was written in response to a Prompts 2 Go’s scenario.
Prompt: Put yourself in someone else’s shoes for a few minutes. Imagine that you or a created character is blind or has gone blind. Write about the world you are a part of and the way in which you take in the world. It would be interesting to write this from a first-person perspective, but this choice is obviously up to you.
I didn’t answer the actual prompt, instead fictionalizing an actual event from my own past. My dad did lose his sight, and I did, shamefully, lie to him about having brought my sweater for a walk. I learned a valuable lesson that day and it’s the reason I came to value honesty so highly.
Leave a comment, if you feel so inclined.
If we're lucky, those lessons stay with us and make us a better person. I remember, as a teenager, saying something unkind about a cousin and then turning around to find her standing behind me. She was one of the sweetest of my relatives so forgave me instantly and has never brought it up again. I think her kindness shamed me more than even the nasty little comment I made. I learned two things... keep your words sweet in case you have to eat them later and don't talk about others in any way other than how you would like them to talk about you. Lessons I've always remembered.
Honesty. Aaahh, scarce, hard to practise for the many, but always rewarding.