I Imagine He had Hazel Eyes
Standing in the corner of the inky gray light rail, he could tower over my five foot three frame by a good four inches. His dark hair lay flat covering his ears and swept across his forehead. Dark sunglasses guarded his eyes. I swear they had to be a light hazel color. A light golden brown with flickers of deep green. Sitting on the other side of the light rail, I observed his light complexion against the contrast of his dark hair. I glanced back out at the overcast sky in hopes I didn’t stare too long. Handfuls of people moved around in the space between us. Jeans, flats, shorts, pastels, bolds, layers, green, blue, and indifferent. After a minute went by, I glanced back over.
Black leather dress shoes encased his feet and a dark blue jean shaped his thin frame. A white V-neck hung from his shoulders complete with a navy blue blazer. Taking in his appearance as I waited for my stop to deliver me at the border of the university, I almost didn’t catch something he held slightly behind him in his right hand. The top of it curved in the palm if his hands, and shot straight down to the ground. Long, circular and black. A walking stick.
Fascinated, I walked behind him as he got off at my stop. He held his right hand out in front of him and moved the black walking stick from side to side across the ground before him. Feeling out for any barriers, people, steps, or potholes in the pavement, he pressed on steadily. Several paces behind the crowd, I could tell he listened and felt the world around him as the walking stick guided him. Blind.
Something about him clenched my heart. I found myself following behind him in the direction of my class, slowing my speed. As he moved the stick in front of him, he felt out a step down from the sidewalk onto a side street. Admiration pulsed through my veins, as I imagined not being able to see, left with a cane to lead me through life while immersed in a vast and blank darkness others can easily decipher through.
I recalled that trust game where a blindfold was placed over my eyes, and I had to obey the directions of a distant voice. Frozen in awkwardness my body tensed up. I didn’t want to move while underneath the blindfold in fear of tripping or walking into something. I remember terror seizing me as I timidly put one foot in front of the other and followed instructions hesitantly. The darkness made me feel isolated, lonely and left out. Knowing the voice saw something I didn’t made me aware of the lack of control I had. Vulnerable. Although the voice said right, I turned left in anxiety, my heart beating and my blood pulsing; I tripped over a cement curb. Stinging my hands, the cement snapped at my palms as giggles let loose in the background. Embarrassment burned my cheeks. I could feel eyes piercing into me, laughing, mocking. The biggest rush of relief flooded through my body when the blindfold came off.
There was no hesitation traced among his footsteps. He walked intrepidly with his head held up and facing forward, his hand stretched out straight, he moved. He knew where he was going. I couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed my presence behind him. If he did, he didn’t show any concern. The end of the stick clicked from left to right, side to side. As the tip grazed a patch of brick among the cement at a fork in the ground, he slowed to a stop upon the edge where concrete and red brick meet. His body grew still as he cocked his head at an angle, perhaps listening to the flow and sound of people around him. I imagine he had hazel eyes. I could almost see the green embedded in the light brown flickering at the flashes of people in front of him. To the left, he turned to walk towards his destination, seeing. Standing upon the red brick ground I stared at my black vans. Many times I walked in the same direction towards my classes and didn’t see the reddish brown brick circle amidst the sea of concrete. Turning to the right, I continued in the opposite direction towards my class, blindly.
