Intro. Writing
I took care of her for almost my whole life.
She couldn’t see the world… so I became her world.
Every morning I would walk her to the garden behind her house. I’d describe everything to her. The color of the sky, the way the wind moved the trees, the stupid way the neighbor’s dog chased birds it could never catch.
She used to laugh and say,
“Your voice paints better pictures than eyes ever could.”
I never told her how much those words meant to me.
When we were little, she once asked me a question.
“If I ever get surgery… and I can finally see… will you be the first person I look at?”
I remember smiling and saying,
“Of course. I’ll be right there.”
Years passed.
And one day, it finally happened.
The doctors said they could restore her sight.
She was terrified the night before the surgery. Her hands were shaking while she held mine.
“Promise me something,” she said.
“Anything.”
“When I wake up… I want the first person I see to be you.”
I promised.
But that night… my parents gave