Miles walked without fear though he could not see the grass under his feet or the trees rustling their leaves around him. He wore no blindfold; he was blind.
Miles heard Mother breathing on one side of him and felt Father’s hand holding his, guiding him down the country lane as his gentle voice described the blue of the sky and the little birds flying in it.
The hot smell of crab sandwiches distracted him, telling him where Mother’s picnic basket swung in her hands.
“We are almost there,” Father said. He stopped and Miles heard Mother spread out a quilt. Miles felt his way to the edge with his feet and sat down.
Mother unwrapped the sandwiches and put one on its crackling paper in Miles’ lap. He ate with sauce dribbling down his chin until Father laughed and wiped the white streaks away.
Mother’s hand covered his. “Miles, the neighbors have said a lot about us, and I am sure Edward has repeated the cruel things his parents say about us but it is not true. Your father and I kept you because we love you; we would not trade you for the world.”
“I did not believe them,” Miles said, his sightless eyes on his sandwich. “I thought at first it might not be easy to be blind but you have been so kind and patient, you are like my eyes. My illumination.”
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