night rider

This is the kid I remember; a little blind mouse. I remember pink framed glasses with a heavy coke bottle lens. I remember the headaches and the sore spot on the bridge of her nose. I remember the crying and the frustration as she slipped further into darkness. I recall the 'droop-eyes' from trying so hard to see, like this right here in these pics from last night.

I still mostly see her that way but I have my reasons. Yes, I have seen what she can do in the gym but I also see that she still showers with the shower curtain open so she has enough light to see the shampoo bottles. I still watch her fake vision. I watch her struggle with print. I watch her refuse to wear her contacts on the weekends because she is tired from 'seeing'. 

And with the best sight of her life I see her see things for the first time. Like the Olympic ski jumps up on the mountain. "Look at those giant slides!" she gasped leaning flat against the glass of the car window. Sophie in the next seat over, "Beach, those aren't slides, you idiot..." And we laugh it off because although her brain is 11 yrs old her vision isn't quite that grown-up.

Maybe it's not fair of me to hold on to the time spent in the darkness when clearly she has moved on into the light. I feel I am the keeper of the what-ifs. Her sight has never been a guarantee....what if it doesn't 'hold'? What if the giant slides on the mountain slip back out of her view. What if her world was to return to darkness?    

Well? She would ride it out like she always does. The same way she does every Independence Day. At dusk we get the bikes out and ride down the river trail to the International Peace Gardens.  We sit in the grass as minorities in a sea of 1st & 2nd generation immigrants and watch the fireworks- it is the best seat in the whole valley.

And that kid who can't see in low light, it is her favorite night of the year. We ride home in the dark hoping for the best. She flies through the night with ease as we call out from behind her, "Can you see the pole?" "Can you see the car?" 

She rides and she laughs. She might let you pull up beside her but she doesn't let anyone get in front of her- fighting & winning her own war of independence. 

At the last leg of the trail I always make myself the same promise: I will take her out night riding again, soon... this year I going to keep it.