Seeing

February 3, 2020

They slowly walked into the Riverwalk Center arm in arm. He gently guided her to a table where she sat while he ordered from the cafe. I was at a nearby table reading, but couldn’t help but notice them. They were perhaps in their late seventies, possibly early eighties, carrying themselves with an air of genteel elegance. Their meal ended, he took care of the tableware before they stood together. She took his arm as they walked quietly out into the parking lot, all the while staring straight ahead, sightlessly taking his cues from the touch of his hand on hers.

I heard not a word, but years of love emanated from them in a language all its own. The tenderness with which he softly spoke and carefully guided her steps is not the product of our instant gratification society, but was built layer upon layer, year by year, till it bore the rich patina of grace, a depth of love and kindness that sang silently to me as I watched. The heart sees a beauty that mortal eyes cannot behold. He saw her as she was when they first met—young, with smiling eyes. Her eyes no longer saw the lines in his face or the love reflected in his own, but she saw. Indeed, she saw him as he truly is. Linda and I are getting there ourselves, day by day, year by year. I hope we are able to see until the last time we shut our eyes to this world. I want to be able one more time to gaze into her eyes, to behold the beauty of her soul. But even if these mortal eyes should fail me, I will see...oh yes, I will see, and give thanks.