The Lighter Shade Of Darkness

"Mandy, stop!"

One step, second step, poise, leap and plunge headfirst -- arms stretched forward. A perfect dive into the middle of the swimming pool.

My knees gave in and I sank onto the grass holding my breath.

"Come Cindy, out now, out!" She had her Labrador by its collar and was pulling it toward the pool steps. Cindy had been in the water at the deep end of the pool for about an hour. She had grabbed the hose of the Kreepy Krawly pool suction cleaner and was jerking it about with her teeth. This would have been her third conquest if I hadn't called Mandy to get her seeing-eye dog out of the pool.

I scolded the former swimming and diving champion for taking such a risk. The young woman was totally blind!

How could she know how far she was from the edge of the pool before she went into her graceful dive? She could have dived head first into the brick pathway.

Mandy wrapped her towel around her waist and sat next to me.

"Calm down to a panic. Don't fret so my Friend. I count the steps to the brick path and then know exactly the distance to the edge of the pool. I've been swimming in this pool for 5 years. I should know by now"

Five years already, I thought. How the time had flown.

I remembered the day Mandy arrived at the Institute. She looked so thin and unhappy. She didn't have Cindy then.

Her Dad brought her to be admitted. Her battle with glaucoma was over. She lost. She was blind. She was in a world of darkness. She was only 20 years old.

It took six weeks on medication to lift her depression.

Regardless, she remained withdrawn, wouldn't have her meals in the dining room and hardly socialized with the other residents.

She lay curled up on her bed most days listening to her Walkman with earphones plugged into her ears, trying to shut the world out. There was light out there.

She didn't want to be reminded.

People from the Blind Society visited and brought gifts and refreshments. The garden party was a success. Mandy sat alone, under a tree. No matter that a bird on a branch above her kept soiling her hat.

She didn't care.

The Weaverbird was building a nest and took a particular interest in her straw hat.

She didn't care.

She sat alone and listened to her Walkman with the earplugs plugged in.

The people from the Blind Society wrote Mandy's particulars in their large Diary.

A week later they returned with a young, yellow Labrador named Cindy. It was registered to Mandy. She was overwhelmed.

She sat for an hour with her arms wrapped around Cindy's neck, sobbing into the dog's coat. Cindy nipped her and dared her to play.

From then on Mandy started to see the 'light' of love and devoted companionship. It was life changing. And Cindy did it.

Mandy and Cindy trained together. They had fun together and got up to mischief together.

One of the carpenters in the workshop made a bed for Cindy. It had a headboard, a footboard, and a mattress, pillow, and blanket.

Cindy loved it. She would charge into Mandy's room from the garden and leap onto her bed from the doorway about 3 meters away. The Labrador became Mandy's eyes and she made good use of her.

Residents who left the building to walk outside the premises had to sign a book saying where they were going, the time of their departure, and what time they would return. It was for safety and security.

"What time did Mandy and Cindy leave the premises?"

The keeper of the register had no idea. She had not seen them leave. Nothing in the book. I called the security guard to search the premises once again.

"No, they're definitely not here".

I was about to call the police when Mandy limped in with a rather aloof seeing-eye dog.

Her clothing was stained and she had dark smudges on her cheeks and upper arms. Her slacks were caked with mud.

Cindy disappeared to her bed.

"All right, this is what happened: I felt like taking Cindy for a walk. As far as I could tell there wasn't anybody at the front door so I decided we wouldn't be long and it didn't matter about not signing the book".

"How did you get into such a mess? What happened?"

"A few blocks down the road on the way to the park, Cindy stopped and wouldn't budge. She does that sometimes when she sees another dog she wants to greet. I let go of her harness and carried on walking.

I fell down a manhole. The cover was off. There were two workmen below in the sluice.

What a stench; and there was mud on the walls.They helped me up, back onto the pavement.

Cindy was across the road with another dog. One of the men climbed out and guided me across the road to her. I was hopping mad with her and gave her a good choking off. I scraped my leg and it's hurting a bit."

I took Mandy to the treatment room and patched her up. I could see that she felt bad about the incident.

Or, maybe she was still angry with Cindy. On the way to the dining room for afternoon tea and scones, we peeked in at Cindy.

She saw us and buried her head in her pillow.

"Sulking", I remarked.

I heard Mandy sobbing softly in her room that evening.

"It's so hard to see nothing but the dark all the time", she spluttered.

"I get so downhearted. I can only 'see' in my imagination, in my mind. It's not real. I can't see where my dog has gone. I can't see what's in front of me - - whether there's a hole or a step. All I see is the dark. Sometimes I want to scream! It's not Cindy I'm angry with, it's the dark".

I put my arm around her. "I know, I know" . She squeezed my hand.

"It's not Cindy's fault, it's not your fault. It's not even my fault. It's just so unfair".

It was a pleasant Saturday afternoon and autumn leaves were blanketing the lawn.

"Mandy, let's take a walk to the park. I'll make sure you don't fall down a hole."

She laughed. "Are we taking Cindy?" Cindy pricked up her ears.

"I guess so," I smiled.

Mandy fitted the dog's harness, we signed the book at the door, and off we went.

Strolling in the park Mandy remarked that it was drawing close to winter.

"How can you tell? Are you feeling cold?"

"No. I'm fine. I can feel the dry grass under my shoes.

And in my mind, I can picture it as yellow and dry".

I handed her some leaves:

"Feel these. You're spot on Mandy Wandy, winter's creeping in".

Cindy was romping with a new friend at the other end of the park.

"I shouldn't let her run about with other dogs, I suppose. Should we leave now?"

Cindy came promptly like the well-trained dedicated helper she was.

We bought ice-cream cones on the way home.

"When I hear the bells of the ice-cream van I see myself running after it. I always asked for chocolate ice cream."

We paused to finish our cones. Cindy lapped her's quickly and sat for more.

"No, my girl. You're getting too fat, you know. One of these days you're going to break your bed".

We arrived home. Cindy charged across the garden and launched herself from the doorway onto her bed. It collapsed under her!

Mandy felt the sun on her cheek but saw only the dark.

I tried to put myself in her place. Living in one room with her dog, in a hostel. Not able to watch movies or read...

I decided to enroll her in braille lessons. She acquiesced and learned quickly. She was grateful and showed her appreciation by offering to teach some of the keen ones how to swim.

If given the opportunity to choose, I think people would choose the light. There is much to see and enjoy. Light is for living and dark is for sleeping. There is no light in the grave where eyes are shut.

These thoughts brought me to the question: Is someone who is born blind aware of the dark? I think not.

They have not known light, so the dark is natural to them. They cannot make a comparison.

To be aware of something one must measure it against another. This is how we become aware of the light. Night versus day.

Then one who becomes adventitiously blind can conjure up the sight of light in one's memory.

They can recall the azure of the sky and the brightness of a sunny day. They can discern an evening twilight -- a moonlit night -- and compare it with the dawn of a new day.

This is the lighter shade of darkness.

Does one ever get used to a disability? No.

We were not designed to be disabled. We were designed to be perfect with eternity placed in our hearts. Instead, we merely learn to adjust and endure.

I look at Mandy and feel her pain in my heart.

I look at Cindy and know that she feels compassion for her friend in her own way.

For every defect, there is a solution. Where there is hope there is the will to cope.

This is a fictional story but fiction is mostly built on fact. Each one has a story to tell and each story matters to someone.

When there was darkness, God said:

"Let there be light..."