Faith

It was like any other Monday morning. Mr. Johnson strapped up his shoes and walked towards the front door with his walking stick.

After all these years, he had painted a picture in his mind, of the world outside. The people who greeted him, the dogs who ran up to him, showering him with their enthusiastic display of love, the children who came to shake hands with him. For every time he rang the bell on his walking stick, he got a response.

Mr Johnson had everything calculated , from the walk to the park, to the particular bench where he used to sit, listening to the passersby talk about their stressful lives. Sometimes he used to indulge in a silent prayer, and sometimes he broke into a long forgotten song. He didn't mind sitting behind a permanent curtain of darkness.

The walk back home was calculated too. Mr. Johnson took the road less taken, passing by the antique shops and artist stalls, away from the busy high way. That particular day his walk back home seemed different. There were noises of motors, and people calling out to each other. For a moment, Mr. Johnson felt he had miscalculated his steps. He stood there, randomly ringing his bell, waiting for his realization to reach a conclusion. Just then, he sensed a man walk up to him, "The government folks are getting this old road repaired" he heard the voice say. "I'll be glad to guide you back from an alternate way"

“I’m Richard” the voice said as Mr. Johnson sensed a hand in front of him, inviting a handshake.

Mr. Johnson didn't give a second thought and shook hands with Richard. For he could sense the right people, and this man for some strange reason seemed kind. They made their way through the crowded path way which ran parallel to the highway. Mr. Johnson felt comfortable talking to Richard, who was a patient listener, telling him about how neglecting a son and a daughter in law can be, and how lovely his grandson Andy is.

"Andy, loves making hot chocolate. Once we reach home you're in for a treat!" he said.

They slowly crossed the highway ignoring furious honks by people in their early morning hurry, and headed towards the lane which finally made Mr. Johnson feel that he was home, as he felt the path with his walking stick.

"You've been of great help, Richard. I owe you one! “said Mr. Johanson when they reached the front door of his house. “You should come in" he added.

"Some other day, sir"

"God bless you my friend. The world isn't that generous to a blind man" said Mr. Johnson.

"Without a helping hand, we’re all blind" Richard said, rhythmically ringing his own bell.

Both men could somehow picture each other's smile.

= = = = = =

Without a helping hand, we’re all blind. Yep.