Vision

First time I met Helen, I was on my first day of the job, at her home. Helen was an older woman, legally blind, and one of the most lively elderly people that I have ever encountered.

“Well hello, baby. How you doing this morning?”

“Hi, I’m fine, Mrs. Helen. How are you?”

“Baby, I can see another blessed day and they sent you to help me, so I’m alright. Come on back here so I can tell you what we have to look forward to during the weeks.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Helen wandered the halls of her cozy home, suddenly waking from the light that dawn shed through the shallow horizons of closed blinds. As she wandered the halls calmly, she made sure to touch each piece of furniture as she led me through her small, homey kitchen towards her bedroom. The home smelled sharp, of lemon and other citrus fruits, where there was a different tangy scent coming from each room.

I was sent to be Helen’s caregiver for a summer job where I utilized my CNA training, that I didn’t complete because I did not do clinical's. Being introduced to this woman who had an entirely different sight in life had introduced me to new ways of thinking, seeing, and feeling. Helen was about sixty-five years old when I met her, and I had to accompany her in her everyday tasks from Monday until Friday, from six o’clock a.m. until noon.

Mrs. Helen waited for me on the front porch of her cabin-inspired home and when I walked up the steps, she said, “Good morning, love” when I reached the second one. The sun had just peeked from beyond the surface by the time I arrived at Helen’s home, but its light did not illuminate us until almost seven. When the sun rose, Helen and I studied each other’s outer appearance for a small moment, but very specifically. She looked at me with her brown eyes that appeared to have a blue ring around her corneas, and the white of her eyes were as cloudy as a stormy day.

Her smile looked like a watermelon slice, rich and sweet as if she could really see me. She also smiled at me with her eyes as soon as we made direct eye contact. Through her eyes, I saw pure ivory glistening between her lids. It was something about the fogginess of her lenses that allowed me to see her eyes as an artifact; aged, experienced, and beautiful.

I didn’t know it then, but I now I understand the difference between sight and vision. Mrs. Helen was legally blind, but it was almost like she could see just as clearly as I could. In fact, it seemed that she saw things a lot more clearer than anyone I had met, so clear that she seemed to foreshadow the occuring moment.

Mrs. Helen told me that day, “You are a gorgeous baby.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Helen,” I said as I continued to look at the sky after we had observed one another on the porch that Monday morning.

I noticed that very day that Mrs. Helen used her cell phone regularly, for she loved to talk. She walked around her town to go to the grocery store and the convenience store, she cleaned her home pretty decently for the most part, and she cooked her own meals.

“Tee, darling, I’m going to this here kitchen of mine to whoop me up some breakfast. Have some food with me and I will tell you how to give me my insulin.”

The first thought that ran through my mind was a nonequivalent equation. Blind woman plus hot stove, does not equal fine meal, perhaps, some factors could be great danger and hurt. I calmly stormed into the room, but the quicker I tried to go into the kitchen, the slower I was walking. It was as if God had pulled me by the strings of my floral scrubs and whispered to me, “Trust her.”

When I arrived in the kitchen, I quietly admired her handling her tools, controlling the stove top, and choosing all of the right ingredients, in awe. She did not see me, for she did not twitch her head to turn around once.

“I’m ok, my sweetness. I may have the least bit of sight, but I have always kept a vision.”