“Keep driving.”
There were no street lamps this far out of town, only the occasional house with a front porch light. Sometimes they were close enough to the road to break the darkness, but mostly they just fed the shadows.
Several more miles down, there was only the headlights leading the way to nowhere and the dash lights to assure me we hadn’t fallen into an ink well.
The road narrowed, and the pavement ended.
What began as a county maintained road turned into a washed-out gravel strip, half hidden by waist-high dried grass. The untamed trees along the shoulder hung low enough for the branches to claw the roof of the truck. Those disappeared, and a pasture edged with barbed wire flanked us on both sides.
The gravel road ended at a cattle gate. It was open, and Morgan didn’t tell me to stop.
Creaks and groans rose and fell as we rolled over the lumpy earth. Grass brushed against the undercarriage. The perpetual sigh followed us another mile.
“Stop here,” Morgan said.
I did.
“Turn the truck off.”
I did.
“The lights.”
I hesitated.
“Please.”
I thought I knew what darkness was until the night swallowed us whole, leaving absolutely nothing. I hoped to see a few stars, but cloud cover had erased them.
The steering wheel in my hands assured me we hadn’t ceased to exist. “Is there a reason why we’re out here?”
Fabric whispered against fabric and the old vinyl seat squeaked. Morgan quit moving, and once again I was left to question whether or not I’d ever been real.
“When I was nine,” Morgan said, “I wanted to be a ballet dancer. Lori emptied out the extra bedroom and put a mirror on the wall. She even installed a railing that went all the way across the room.
“We had a small TV and a VCR, and she built a shelf in the corner to sit everything on. Every week she’d check out instructional tapes, and any movies with dancers from the library, and I’d watch them over and over.
“I followed the dancers on the video. I did everything they did. Just like they did. I practiced and I practiced.
“Lori saved up some money so I could take real lessons at a small private school in Alto. They made you do auditions to get in, and it was a thirty-mile drive one-way. Sometimes they’d run late, and you’d have to go home and come back. It took three trips before it was my turn.”
Morgan laughed a little. “I wasn’t even nervous because I’d watched those videos every day. I’d practiced every day. I knew the moves perfectly.
“I was the best.” Silence reigned until Morgan sighed. “But they denied my application before they even let me show them what I could do.”
“Why?”
“Because they couldn’t see me.”
I hated to admit my ignorance, but I didn’t have a choice. “I don’t understand.”
“The light is a funny thing, Grant. We think it shows us what we need to see, but in reality, it blinds us. That’s why I brought you here. I wanted you to see me.”
He was right. The light did blind people. I knew firsthand just how misleading it could be. Switch a few parts, tuck a masterpiece in a load of half-assed art, and people wouldn’t give it a second glance.
In Morgan’s case, the light had let me see the tics, the muscle spasms, and his strange movements, and I’d been distracted by them. The dark took it all away and left me sitting next to a person, not a behavior, a human being, not perceived defects. Someone insightful, quick-witted, determined, generous, kind, and armed with a wicked sense of humor.
Someone definitely smarter than me.
Someone I did not deserve.
I’d been so close to being like those dance instructors who threw away a once in a lifetime chance. But instead of leaving me to the mercy of the light, Morgan had led me into the darkness, where it had no more power over me.
How did you replay that kind of gift? How did you repent for being unable to see it?
I didn’t know, but I wanted to try.
“What’s your favorite
There were no street lamps this far out of town, only the occasional house with a front porch light. Sometimes they were close enough to the road to break the darkness, but mostly they just fed the shadows.
Several more miles down, there was only the headlights leading the way to nowhere and the dash lights to assure me we hadn’t fallen into an ink well.
The road narrowed, and the pavement ended.
What began as a county maintained road turned into a washed-out gravel strip, half hidden by waist-high dried grass. The untamed trees along the shoulder hung low enough for the branches to claw the roof of the truck. Those disappeared, and a pasture edged with barbed wire flanked us on both sides.
The gravel road ended at a cattle gate. It was open, and Morgan didn’t tell me to stop.
Creaks and groans rose and fell as we rolled over the lumpy earth. Grass brushed against the undercarriage. The perpetual sigh followed us another mile.
“Stop here,” Morgan said.
I did.
“Turn the truck off.”
I did.
“The lights.”
I hesitated.
“Please.”
I thought I knew what darkness was until the night swallowed us whole, leaving absolutely nothing. I hoped to see a few stars, but cloud cover had erased them.
The steering wheel in my hands assured me we hadn’t ceased to exist. “Is there a reason why we’re out here?”
Fabric whispered against fabric and the old vinyl seat squeaked. Morgan quit moving, and once again I was left to question whether or not I’d ever been real.
“When I was nine,” Morgan said, “I wanted to be a ballet dancer. Lori emptied out the extra bedroom and put a mirror on the wall. She even installed a railing that went all the way across the room.
“We had a small TV and a VCR, and she built a shelf in the corner to sit everything on. Every week she’d check out instructional tapes, and any movies with dancers from the library, and I’d watch them over and over.
“I followed the dancers on the video. I did everything they did. Just like they did. I practiced and I practiced.
“Lori saved up some money so I could take real lessons at a small private school in Alto. They made you do auditions to get in, and it was a thirty-mile drive one-way. Sometimes they’d run late, and you’d have to go home and come back. It took three trips before it was my turn.”
Morgan laughed a little. “I wasn’t even nervous because I’d watched those videos every day. I’d practiced every day. I knew the moves perfectly.
“I was the best.” Silence reigned until Morgan sighed. “But they denied my application before they even let me show them what I could do.”
“Why?”
“Because they couldn’t see me.”
I hated to admit my ignorance, but I didn’t have a choice. “I don’t understand.”
“The light is a funny thing, Grant. We think it shows us what we need to see, but in reality, it blinds us. That’s why I brought you here. I wanted you to see me.”
He was right. The light did blind people. I knew firsthand just how misleading it could be. Switch a few parts, tuck a masterpiece in a load of half-assed art, and people wouldn’t give it a second glance.
In Morgan’s case, the light had let me see the tics, the muscle spasms, and his strange movements, and I’d been distracted by them. The dark took it all away and left me sitting next to a person, not a behavior, a human being, not perceived defects. Someone insightful, quick-witted, determined, generous, kind, and armed with a wicked sense of humor.
Someone definitely smarter than me.
Someone I did not deserve.
I’d been so close to being like those dance instructors who threw away a once in a lifetime chance. But instead of leaving me to the mercy of the light, Morgan had led me into the darkness, where it had no more power over me.
How did you replay that kind of gift? How did you repent for being unable to see it?
I didn’t know, but I wanted to try.
“What’s your favorite
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