The Value

There is no means for me to illustrate this story for it is of no real apparent value but still, the inspiration is within, and that desire to share with all is the driving force. The following is an edited true story not told by me, instead, it is told by time through me. I present to you, the original story of ‘The Value’.

Life was life, nothing special, a plain old story which ending was too predicable. It would all end with death. The roof over my head took no significant value; the bed I slept on was but a bed, nothing more. Day in day out it all remained the same, life, that blank sheet of paper, nothing worthy of remembrance. I stared out that window of mine into the blue sky above, my mind devoid from the body. The clouds drifted around, blocking the view of what lay beyond. It was all seemed so distant. The fluffy white clouds I longed to feel. I wanted a handful of the clouds but then again, it was insufficient – I wanted the skies, I wanted all that lies beyond. There was no limit to that hunger for dominance over all.

That was the past and everything has changed now - the situation changed it all. I vividly remember Terry, the family’s dog which torn me apart from that fantasy world that I was in. The fall, as I call it now, is just so reminiscent and so painful to recall. That dog was a camaraderie that stuck to me and understood my deepest desires. I enjoyed its company, esprit de corps was the dept of friendship, and my joy was through it. It all had to happen, as if fate was toying with me. I ran, chasing the dog and it happened all in slow motion – I tripped and the glass table came up to me, all so slowly and frightfully.

The impact seemed to revive the film but it all ended up in black and white with a hint of red. I was alive but the injury was to my detriment. The world was all but black and white, with a hint of red for the table hit me right in the left eye. I was brought to the hospital, crying a mixture of tears and blood. My mind was totally blank, in a state of shock. The doctor mumbled something about my eye to my parents and then the drug set in.

When I awoke, the world was different. Where was the blue sky outside the window? It was all gone. I could see it but it was all gone, it was all to be shattered. At the age of five at that point, I was still too dumb to understand anything and I lived life as I had did, not realizing the value of it all.

Now, I stand here before the world realizing that it was all so stupid of me. The world that I knew seemed so surreal now, it all was but another page of history. The gift of the sense of sight was abused. It is said that God gives us talents to use but if they are not, they are taken away from us. Is this the situation now? I still can see but it is fading away. My images are blurring as much as my life is. The value of life, the value of all that God has given us was all forsaken before. Are we humans such imbeciles that we only realize the value of something when it is about to be taken away from us? The value of my sight was so insignificant and the world of colours so insipid. I was all so callous, taking all for granted. I had despised all whom were unfortunate and not realized how lucky I was.

I am a musician, a potential composer and one whom is going to regard as a blind person soon. However, I know that I will be kept in good faith. Bona fide! I can now sit before my piano and play any piece and it will all be so meaningful for I treasure it. I still can hear and I have the gift to play. I go on for hours on the piano, playing in tremolo, playing with emotions like there is no tomorrow. I have realized the value, the value of all I have. Life is valuable and let alone all I have. I now count my blessings and not that of my downfalls. Even if I were to loose my sight tomorrow, I know that I would still be fortunate for I have people who care for me, people who love me. If I were not to see, I would still have my musical talents and my gift to comfort others. Most of all I would still have that love of God.

I am a changed person now, no longer as before. Time has told its story and of course, it would have to be dedicated unto someone for it was her that built the story. This story that I have written is dedicated to the source of inspiration and my secondary comfort zone whenever I needed it. Thank you Beatrice – have faith in God for He will surely provide for you.