Blind, Chapter 3

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The alarm blared once again in his ear, interrupting his moment of peace. Just as quickly, the cold returned to his face.

Without thinking, he slid his legs over the edge of the bed and started across the room. Even though he was slipping into routine, it would not be a normal day. That morning pause would prove to be the beginning of his pathway back from the dark.

He did not think of it again until later that morning, long after he got dressed and made his way down the hall to wake up the children for school. He had learned over the years that the two little ones had to be woken differently. He did so with a little bit of humour, although mostly for his own amusement. It wasn’t always appreciated, but it almost always did the trick. At least they were old enough to get themselves ready.

Next, he entered the kitchen to prepare the lunches. He would hear footsteps scurrying and water running from the bathroom above, behind the slapping of lunch meat on the slices of bread.

Eventually, they would converge on the kitchen and scramble to eat something before throwing on their outdoor clothes. The cry of the arrival of the school bus next filled his ears. After quick goodbyes and hugs, the house became quiet again.

This daily swirl of activity was actually comforting to the man. In those moments, the sounds of life compensated nicely for the lack of sight that handicapped him. It felt like there was hope and life in his day, even if it had to come from the kids. Oh to go back to a simpler time.

These busy mornings helped his mind hold back the weight of his crowding thoughts, even if for an hour.

As the stillness returned to the house, he often experienced a moment of dread.

It was the same feeling every day, and it was hard to pin down. It seemed irrational, and yet it still filled his head.

If he could have, he would have watched as dark tendrils surrounded him, tightening around his waist and neck, pulling him deeper into the dark.

 Photo Credit: stuant63 via Compfight cc
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