I Say a Little Prayer for Me

Tap, step.  Tap, step.  Tap, stop.  Where am I?  I take a guess and take a left onto Fear Street.  Cars honk, drivers curse, rap music wraps me in a shroud of angry oaths.  Darkness weighs on me, trees lean on me, buildings frown on me.  The sidewalk swells and plunges. Turn left?  Turn right?  Turn back!  I keep walking and start praying.  God in Heaven, I swear I am not lost—I’ve found the screaming hell of going blind.

This was supposed to be fun, this housewarming party.  Celebrate life!  Toast a new start!  Now I hate the host for not offering a ride and I hate myself for not asking.  Tap, step.  Tap, step.  North or south? A swirling wind sweeps away the guiding voice of my GPS.  East or west?  The Unholy Trinity of lawn mower, weed whacker and leaf blower assaults my ears and snaps at my heels.  I hate this mayhem.  I hate this fright.  And I hate that I hate so much tonight.

I should have planned better, made a practice run, installed that Uber app.  Next time, I’ll do better; I’ll be better than this.  But past and future deny my place in this moment and this moment is all that’s real. Tap, step. Tap, step.  Nearer or farther?  Try to breathe deep and relax into the fear.  Try harder, because everything tells me to clench and will it away.   Slow down.  I sense the shift, sense that “Where am I” is less a right or wrong place and more a question of Who and Why am I. And I become aware that I won’t find all the answers tonight, that there may not be answers.  It’s OK to live in the questions and the discomfort.  It’s OK when life is messy.  That’s what life is like sometimes.  And now is one of those times.  Tonight I do not overcome.  Tonight I do not go beyond.  In this struggle, I just go on.

This entry was posted in Blindness, independent travel and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to I Say a Little Prayer for Me

  1. bethfinke says:

    Maybe I am influenced by the title (ah, for those Dionne Warwick/Burt Bacharach days) but I honestly think someone should set this to music.


  2. Candi says:

    While I am not totally blind, I can relate to some degree. I constantly have to excuse others ( in my mind mostly) for not knowing. You make me feel “normal” Jeff. Thanks.

  3. Susy Clark says:

    All of your training and life helping others move through challenges appear to be guiding you now. Beautifully communicated.

  4. Andrea says:

    Your writing just keeps getting better…deeper…more poetic…more profound. Wow!

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