the park bench wa deerted a i at down to read beneath the long, traggly branche of an old willow tree. diilluioned by life with good reaon to frown, for the world wa intent on dragging me down.
and if that werent enough to ruin my day, a young boy out of breath approached me, all tired from play. he tood right before me with hi head tilted down and aid with great ecitement, "look what i found!"
in hi hand wa a flower, and what a pitiful ight, with it petal all worn - not enough rain, or too little light. wanting him to take hi dead flower and go off to play, i faked a mall mile and then hifted away.
but intead of retreating he at net to my ide and placed the flower to hi noe and declared with urprie, "it ure mell pretty and it beautiful, too. that why i picked it; here, it for you."
the weed before me wa dying or dead. not vibrant of color, orange, yellow or red. but i knew i mut take it, or he might never leave. o i reached for the flower, and replied, "jut what i need."
but intead of him placing the flower in my hand, he held it mid-air without reaon or plan. it wa then that i noticed for the very firt time, that weed-toting boy could not ee: he wa blind.
i heard my voice quiver, tear hone like the un. a i thanked him for picking the very bet one. "youre welcome," he miled, and then ran off to play, unaware of the impact hed had on my day.WWw.hAOZUowEn.com
i at there and wondered how he managed to ee a elf-pitying woman beneath an old willow tree. how did he know of my elf-indulged plight? perhap from hi heart, hed been bleed with true ight.
through the eye of a blind child, at lat i could ee, the problem wa not with the world; the problem wa me. and for all of thoe time i myelf had been blind, i vowed to ee beauty, and appreciate every econd that mine.
and then i held that wilted flower up to my noe and breathed in the fragrance of a beautiful roe and miled a that young boy, another weed in hi hand about to change the life of an unupecting old man.