Sarah’s Sunset

Sarah was blind. Yet, each Friday, she traveled to the beach to catch a sunset. Although her eyes had never sensed light, she would argue with anyone who would listen that she experienced the sunset as well as – strike that – better than a seeing person. She contended that no one saw a perfect sunset as she had.

Because of this, every Friday, without fail, she walked the well-known route to the beach, feeling her way to her “spot” and crashing to the sand like the waves themselves. Sarah’s family worried about her making the trek, though she had arrived in safety every time. However, her desire to see the sunset spurred her to make that trip each week.

Now, Sarah sat motionless, absorbing the unfolding story of the sunset. Her hands and feet burrowed deeply into the sand, her sensitive skin soaking in its warmth as it took inventory of every grain. The soft, salty breeze kissed her face as it swept by, a stranger whispering hello and then silently slipping away. Few things in her life touched her heart more than these, but she understood these heralded even better things of the sunset.

Nature filled in more details as she could hear the agonizing moan of seagulls, hovering not far above her head, the rise and fall of their cry perfectly synchronized with the spasmodic crashing of the ocean waves. On occasion, a boat would wail its sad song, and somewhere off in the distance, the gentle laughter from children punctuated the scene’s statement to her.

It was, however, the warmth on Sarah’s face that she claimed fully divulged the deepest secrets the sunset held. Bathing in its sultry radiance brought everything together for her, as if it said to her, “Ha! What do you think of that?” Her other senses took over so fully that she swore to everyone she knew exactly what the sunset looked like.

What she lacked in specific details she made up for by asking those nearby to help her understand the sight before her. Occasionally, a curious soul crossed her path, wondering why a blind person would go to the beach at all. She answered with a smile and a request to describe the scene to her. No one had yet turned her down.

Often, they would begin with colors – reds, pinks, purples and yellows. Sarah didn’t understand what those were since she had never seen color of any kind. However, her imaginative energy spun almost out of control, conjuring up enough about each color that the sunset took on a vivid radiance that no seeing person could even imagine. 

Then there were the clouds – puffy ones, flat ones, wispy ones. Sarah could almost feel in her hands their texture and size as each person struggled in their own way to describe what each cloud looked like in a fiery scene that lit up with burnished majesty, not only the sky above, but also Sarah’s imagination. It was those descriptions of clouds that, more often than anything else, forged an indelible impression in her imagination, sending her other senses into frenzied fervor.

The flurry of detail would steady a bit as Sarah’s captive audience captivated her with descriptions of people – all kinds of people – to the point she wondered if there were any beach at all with all the people. Perhaps humans even outnumbered the grains of sand on the shore! At times she admitted that she had to laugh at her own reckless sense of humor, but all of it was more than fantastical to her. It transformed everything through her imagination into fact of the highest nature.

Of course, there was the beach. The sand needed little describing for her. However, she always chuckled at the way people portrayed how it stretched on and on. Sarah’s mind eagerly processed these descriptions. It almost flowed out into the ocean and back into the street as it poured through her imagination. She wondered at descriptions of rocks and shells that littered the beach, forming uneven lines from the surf that had washed them helplessly to shore.

At times, someone would dislodge a starfish from its rocky home and drop it into Sarah’s trembling hands. Those creatures always fired her imagination, painting a complete picture in her mind. All of it filled in details she would have missed otherwise.

At the end of it all, however, it was always about the sunset. That’s why Sarah had come, and she was grateful that there were those willing souls who would take the time to help her take it all in. She was truly blessed by it all and could have asked for no better company on a Friday evening. For Sarah, those people functioned as her eyes, giving her an incredible view of those sunsets every Friday, but only Sarah truly understood what a sunset really looked like. 

Nothing emphasized that scene more to her than those times when, after her company had made their way back to their own lives, she would sit in solitary silence as she had begun and would contemplate the beauty that so willingly reached out to her and shared a moment with a blind woman. She cherished those moments the most.

All of it stirring together created a delicious fantasy for her soul to devour, food for the mind’s eye, so to speak. She could have dined on nothing better than what she feasted on each Friday. It fed her soul for the rest of the week, giving her fuel to race through an otherwise pedestrian life. 

Sarah knew the sun had run its course and the sunset waned when a sigh, springing from the deepest recesses of her heart, found its way to complete a glorious masterpiece, confirming in her soul that she had just witnessed the perfect sunset. She knew it was time to say goodbye, and with little fanfare, Sarah made her way back along the well-known route from the beach to home, ecstatic at the incredible sunset she enjoyed every Friday, simply thankful for what she had seen.