Intrinsic Humility

Two thursday afternoon ago a wrinkled 78years old farmer with clean bright blue eyes lightning on an open smile came in for a visit.He soon looked straight in my eyes for a while, glued my sight to his sight, fastened my hands to his and locked my attention with his memories and stories of all the strives and efforts he and his past wife had to go through their lives, swiching in my ears the singing voice of his 4 nephews running in an everlasting blossoming garden.I dove respectfully my inquiring eyes in his ones, drifted around, and moved upward with the clear milky image of a retinal scar almost blinding both eyes.He came when nothing could have been done, he didn't struggle asking for a therapy, he didn't moan, regret or complain, and couldn't understand my concern in trying to explain him how some recent device could help improve his vision. He accepted the name of his disease, thanked and stepped out with the same humble smile, wishing me a good day. I sit at my desk, surrounded by the corrosive light that comes after each summer storm, with a chilly air blowing through the curtains and bringing in the moaning of the wind through the trees.The lustrous green of wet grass and bushes brings energy to the day.I pray and wish everyone could live a life that could give him strenght and relief instead of agony and misery in case of pain.



By Elena Albe