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Patience Virtue

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Close Your Eyes
By Patience Virtue
Thursday, December 13, 2007

Rated "G" by the Author.

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Sometimes we forget the value of faith and trust only in our "eyes": what we see of the world through our physical eyes, our reason, our emotions, or our experiences. This is a story about what can happen when we let go of our sight and just trust.

“Close your eyes.”

I instinctively shut them obediently and listened to the sounds of people arranging and rearranging themselves around us. I heard the rustling movement of skirts swishing around themselves and the muffled tapping of shoes on the floor that I remembered was shining brightly. A hundred smells assailed my nostrils; the smell of the feast just recently devoured, the smell of a hundred sparkling women decked out in their finest, but most distracting was the smell of the man next to me.

To describe that smell is almost as hard as describing the man himself, impossible in the stunning wonder that is this mysterious and complex character beside me. His smell is like the earth after the rain, like woods in spring, like a mountain sharp with pine, like the air that tingles and grows in intensity just before an evening summer storm.

“Take my hand. Just trust me, and everything will be fine.” It’s funny how he can calm my fears before I express them.

We step out onto the floor; my eyes still shut, his sure and steady steps leading the way. After a few paces he stops and I realign my body with his. Placing his arm around my waist, he whispers into my hair “just follow my lead; you’ll do beautifully.” And then, we begin to dance.

We’ve practiced a hundred times before, but never did dancing feel like this. And never before had I danced in blindness. In blind trust I moved in response to him, letting his every step determine mine. I almost got ahead of myself once or twice; almost, but his arms were there to direct me back on course. There, in front of a thousand eyes, I learned blind faith.

It’s not about saying I trust him, but about being able to dance beautifully with only the aid of his eyes. It’s not about knowing where the steps are taking me, but about the beautiful journey that takes me there. It’s not about equality, but about dependence on my leader every moment of it.

Peeking would be out of the question; it would not only spoil the dance, but spoil the lesson as well. As soon as I become dependent on my own eyes again I draw further from my lead and my steps begin to falter. No, as I began this dance, so I will end it; in complete and total trust in this dancing partner of mine (if the word partner can even be used, as he is so far out of my league).

He says very little as we dance. But there is little that needs to be said out loud. In his soft grasp of my hand and firm grip on my waist I feel all that I need to know and it is more than enough. I feel his delight and his love and I feel my own amazement course through me. “How could this happen to me?” That is the question that runs through my mind, leaving me dazzled and just slightly confused. “How could such a man as he, want to dance with me?”

As if in answer to my question he whispers to me again, this time his warm breath and lips brushing my ear as he talks. “You are stunning tonight, absolutely entrancing.” My cheeks feel warm and I try not to let a schoolgirl giggle escape my throat. Me, entrancing? It’s a little hard to believe. I would have argued the point then and there, were I not still timidly shy around him.

I felt his eyes, looking just barely reproachful, then understood. I was questioning his judgment, telling him he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Me, a little timid girl, telling this man how it is: it’s absurd! He must have noticed my grin, for he pulled me just a little tighter then.

We danced and danced, and I never wanted it to end. The music weaved its own enchantment similar to the one that was thrown over me that night. The dances started getting more and more difficult and I started to lose my footing. But what can you do? You can’t quit and sit down in the middle of the room and pout; so I slid closer and let my body’s rhythm follow my partner’s, each foot in unison, each rise and fall and sway in perfect time.

I wish I could say the night never ended, but it did end. It ended when I opened my eyes and lost the reality of that dance to the so-called reality of this world. And now here I am, stripped of my gown and glass slippers, struggling to get all of Cinderella’s chores done and trying to live this life as if I didn’t know there was something better.

But one of these days, when Cinderella realizes there is something better, my prince will come back; and then, in a whirlwind of love and romance, we will dance away the rest of my life, and keep dancing all the way through the next.        

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Reviewed by susan donavon 12/14/2007
Words cant even begin to tell you how much I love your story. I was caught on every word, I cant wait to read your next story. Good luck.

Glimpse OF An Angel by J. Allen Wilson

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