Flash Fiction Friday - The Most Precious Thing
Grace pulled the rented Jeep into the Yellowstone Lower Falls parking area, turned off the ignition and said to her groom. “Ready?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
This day had been a long time coming, so long Grace had begun to think it might never happen. The newlyweds were separated first by Connor’s deployment to Afghanistan. And then another two months while he recovered at Walter Reed Medical Center from injuries sustained during an IED explosion. At last they’d started their life together, honeymooning at Yellowstone National Park. Connor reached for her arm and they strolled the short path to the falls, the roar of the water enticing them forward.
As they rounded a curve, the falls came into view. Massive yellow rock walls formed a spectacular entry way for the water as it crashed over the cliff and settled into the deep Yellowstone River. “Feel the cool breeze off the water? I could stay here all day,” Grace said.
Connor nodded. They stood in silence as they waited their turn for a picture, the sweet smell of the purified water refreshing their senses. A girl behind them said to the man beside her, “Dad, the sign says the falls drop 308 feet. Imagine plunging that far in a wooden barrel!.“ Grace turned and gave the girl a wide-eyed look and they both giggled.
Soon it was their turn to sit on the huge rock and position themselves for pictures. Grace took a few selfies and then accepted an offer from the girl’s dad to click pictures of them, the falls in the background.
They rose from the rock and meandered to a wooden rail fence and stood chatting, their senses filled with the magnificence of the waterfall, the coolness of the air and the smell of fresh pines around them. At last Grace said, “What do you care most about in the world? And no obvious answers - God, me, your parents.”
Connor slid an arm around her waist. “Too tough a question. I mean I could say the earth, the homeless, those with addictions. And there’s always world peace.”
Grace’s eyes twinkled. The wind blew a wisp of her black hair, tickling her cheek. ”Try,” she said.
He turned to face the falls and stood thinking, ran a hand through wavy brown hair and said, “Okay, On this day, this moment, I would say I care most about my vision.”
Grace flinched and stuttered, “But… I’m, I’m sorry, I thought you’d say your life after what happened in Afghan…”
“It’s okay, Babe.” He searched her face with his fingertips and wiped away the tears. “Of course I’m thankful God spared my life. But because I’m blind now, I’m thankful for the images I have in my mind. I can see, put together how things look because of the years I was sighted. And my other senses are gearing up more every day. I know the sight of water crashing over a cliff. And that this falls is higher than Niagara Falls and from the sound of it I can discern it’s not nearly as wide. And through your lovely green eyes you’ve painted a picture for me – the water tumbling to the river below, the landscape around us.
Grace tapped a finger to the tip of his nose. “And you’ve helped me see this place from a new perspective. I’ve paid attention to the sweet fragrance of the woods, birds chirping, the feel of fresh air on my skin.”
Connor laughed. “Yes, this is a magical place. ‘Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in Him.’ ”
“Your verse, Psalm 34:8,” she said and hugged him close.
“That’s right. It’s what I cling to as I adjust to the loss of my sight.” He tilted her chin upward and felt the contour of her lips, turned up in a smile. He brushed his lips across hers and held her a moment.
Slowly, they made their way back to the Jeep, feeling the incline with each step, hearing the pines sway in the breeze. “Ready to go see, uh - experience the upper falls?” Grace said, as she directed Connor to his side of the vehicle.
“I hear they’re mighty as they rip through the canyons. Let’s go for it!” Connor said.
Grace stepped around the vehicle, taking her time getting in. As she looked into the azure sky, a few puffy clouds drifting past, she prayed, Heavenly Father, give me the gift of seeing the world and it’s people through Your eyes. That truly is the most precious gift.”
“Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore?” - Henry Ward Beecher