The Gift

From the window of my chic city office, lost in thought, I gaze out. The pedestrians scurry like frenzied ants below, caught up in their bustling state of holiday insanity. In his haste to cross the street a man drops a ruby red rose, its beauty intensified all the more against the stunning contrast of white snow, its petals crystalized like sugared frosting. To reminiscing thoughts of love, it beckons one and all. Yet in foreseeable inevitability, a glimmering mist of reality- there’s no sweeter scent than that of a crushed rose. My eyes linger on the little forlorn figure sitting cross legged on the street, her thin arms wrapped tight around her small frame. Her worn cardboard box with the scrawled words ‘Please Help’ lies bare. She should be with her friends having fun, a disadvantaged child denied a normal life is destitute in more ways than one. Yielding her youthful years to an impoverished life, a sanctuary of serenity her circumstance denies. Harkening to the sound of each approaching footstep flashes sparks of hope in her eager eyes. "Little fool," I muse. "There is no such thing as hope- an illusion. Pray there's someone out there who will save you..." Suddenly I feel faint, my head spinning like a whirling dervish. I fall to the ground as a voice echoes inside my mind, “Next time.” And I remember. That day in the park. The homeless woman. Those piercing eyes. My promise to never again forsake an opportunity to help, to do something. I rise slowly as the vertigo and voice gradually fades away. Peering down from the twenty-third floor the people look so small. They hustle to get to someplace. Or to someone. The scrawny waif with the cardboard sign and matted hair is still there. My heart begins to pound. By now I should be heading home to my husband and our luxury penthouse. Dinner tonight at The Rainbow Room. “God, why can’t I get this vagrant out of my mind?” I scream. I hurriedly rush down the elevator and out the main door, cross the street and then go left down Second avenue. The young beggar sits alone in front of the shuttered auto parts store. I gingerly approach and ask tentatively, “Is there anything I can do for you?” All around us snow is falling like tiny white butterflies. As the drifter looks up, I jump back, startled. Not a young teen like I had assumed, much more mature. Those eyes! I've seen those eyes before. The same knowing, lucent blue eyes I locked onto that day in the park. But how could it be? This person is definitely not the one I saw back then. The beggar says nothing, but instead reaches out her hand as if to grab hold of the hand of a supposed benefactor. Reluctantly, and with a slight sense of revulsion, I take hold of her hand. All at once, my head starts spinning again, like it did at the office. But just as suddenly as it began, it stops. When I open my eyes, I am no longer on Second avenue, nor am I in Manhattan. The colors of the rainbow surround me and are more vivid than any I have ever seen. I don't just see the hues, I feel them, like waves of the universe flowing through my very being. The rainbow slowly fades away, like wisps of smoke. What I witness next fills me with a sense of wonder and awe. I can see Mars and Saturn as clearly as if seeing them through the most powerful telescope imaginable. There is Venus, Neptune, Jupiter. In this moment I come to realize I'm not alone. Standing beside me is the woman whose hand I touched only a moment ago. Or was it a just a moment? No way to tell. Time seems to have no meaning here. But where exactly is “here?” The woman standing next to me has not spoken a word. Instead, she motions with her arm toward Earth. Here in the blackness of space, Earth looks like sparkling gems of topaz and pearl. My vision is sharpened, I can see everything. New York, Seoul, Tokyo, Sydney, and Moscow. They are as close or as far as I need them to be. I sharpen my focus yet more. People are on the streets, fighting. Children crying because they are hungry. Smog so thick you can cut it with a knife. Warring tribes with guns, so many guns. The images flash so quickly that it makes my stomach queasy. “Stop, please,” I cry out to my celestial guide. But the images only increase in their frequency and become more graphic in nature. I see Alexander, Khan, Hitler and other world conquerors. In a short span of time, I see the entirety of human history in all of its glory and misery. And the blood, rivers of blood. By now I am weeping copious tears and turn to my guide, whom I now realize is an angel. What I see brings me to my knees. My angel is weeping too. The Angel finally speaks, “Behold!” Steering my attention again to Earth, it is quickly apparent that something has changed. The smog has cleared. The big cities are gone. As I peer closer, I can espy children playing in the streets. National boundaries have seemingly vanished. Nowhere can I see a single gun. And the faces, all the happy, smiling faces. I understand. I have just been blessed with a glimpse into the future. It was indeed... Paradise! But why me? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ She arrives home to find her husband dressed in his best suit and patting his belly to inform her it’s time to eat. But as he takes a closer look at his wife of nine years it nearly floors him. Her beautiful brown eyes have changed to blue. And not just any blue, but a deep, lucent blue. Indeed, they are the most piercing blue eyes he has ever seen. She has been given a gift that he may never understand- THE GIFT OF SIGHT *This is a collaboration with the wonderful Maria Williams. As some of you know, we did a collaboration here titled: The Visitor. It was a three-part story with an Avatar vibe to it. This one deals with homelessness, opulence, and ultimately, hope. We hope you'll give it a read.