⠞ ⠓⠑⠀⠇⠊⠛⠓⠞ ⠺⠊⠞⠓⠊⠝ T h e L i g h t W i t h i n

Anna Ostrovsky'26

When you are diagnosed with a disease as fatal as mine, you are forced to think differently. One might say you create a collection of imaginary beliefs. Listening to the sounds of my home is my favorite part of the day. It is endlessly filled with different people: some sound tall or short, others sound muffled or high-pitched. Most times, it does feel cluttered. When this feeling happens, I allow myself to wait for Mom and let her join me. Being with Mom is the best. She reads to me from many different diagnoses; however, she calls them stories. 

…

“Hi, Henry! How are you feeling today?” says short voice. 

“Good,” I reply. 

…

*beeping 

“Can I go outside today?” I ask. 

… 

Mom’s stories are magical, (at least that’s what she tells me). She says that reading books brings you to different worlds. Mom often comes to read stories that are captivating, and liberating, tales of pure survival. On days that are taller, Mom comes in and reads visions. These are my favorite stories. 

Listening to Mom read the story brings a smile to my face, that is what it’s called right?, She said my smile shines as bright as the sun, the hot thing in the air. 

… 

*in the distance:

“Today is not the best day for him, it’s raining outside and he can slip.” 

“Just check his mobility, and we can see.” 

“Okay.”

…  

“Hi, Henry! Let’s take a stroll?” 

Around the block? Where are we going? Do we really need to? 

ARE WE FINALLY GOING OUTSIDE?! 

 This white cane is really hard to maneuver but at least I can feel where I am going; however, I don’t think this is outside. Where is the smell of light and my favorite bur-clover flowers? Instead, I smell the claustrophobia that comes with the house.

“How does the cane feel today? Is it all you’ve ever dreamed of? It took a while for us to get a hold of this type of white cane. It looks good on you, Henry!” says the short voice. 

“Are we going outside?” Henry replies 

“Unfortunately we–” the short voice says 

“I want to go back. Suddenly, I feel tired.” Henry interrupts. 

I can’t believe she would trick me like that. I am tired. Tired of constantly having to wait. When can I go back outside? When will I finally see the light? 

 Is it all you’ve ever dreamed of? 

*Henry scoffs. 

Seeing the light of the stories is my dream. Not some stupid stick! I miss mom. I want her to come back from work and tell me another story. Maybe she can help me plan to achieve my dream! 

“Hi, Henry! I heard that you tried out the new cane today! How did it feel?” says the woman. 

Mom, you’re back! 

“The stick was fine, but I wasn’t allowed to go outside.” 

“I stopped by the bookstore and got a new story. Do you want to hear it?” 

“Yes!” 

*The woman reads the book to Henry and with each description. The woman notices a smile so big that it consumes Henry’s face.

…

“From the sound of the waves crashing to the wallowing sun looking at its own reflection in the water.”

…

“From the smell of the freshly painted street to the light melting the still concrete.” 

… 

“From the sound of mom and dad dancing to the moonlight creeping into the sleeping children’s bedroom.” 

… 

“With the acceptance of nature…the door opens for the man allowing him to get on the top of the hill and see the faint light which slowly illuminates the world’s abyss.” 

… 

“Is there a name for that type of light?” interrupts Henry. 

“I think the story is referring to a sunrise as the source of the sun. The very one that you feel when outside,” replies the woman. 

*The woman was called on by another doctor and stopped reading. 

“Try to get some rest Henry.” the woman said calmly. 

“Okay,” replies Henry. 

I can’t sleep. 

A sunrise? I know she says that the source of light is the same as the one I feel when outside… but I want to see it. I want to be the man on top of that hill. But I guess the only way to get there is by foot right? But how come I feel the light whenever I am outside? Does that mean I am already on the hill? I need to go outside. 

… 

*The next morning 

“Hi, Henry! How are you feeling today?” asks the short voice while passing by the room. 

*Henry does not respond for he already is used to the short voices’ default question. 

I need to go outside. But how? 

… 

How about I ask to try the stick again? But then when whoever is with me gets distracted I will make a run for it! Yeah, that’s it!... or is it called walking? Wait but how will I find the bridge between the two worlds? Using the stick? But I am not that well trained yet. 

… 

*Echoing from the corridor, a woman’s voice suddenly abruptly enters Henry’s room 

… 

That’s it! What if I ask Mom?! She wouldn’t say no to me, right? She knows how much I love the light! 

… 

It isn’t raining, there is not a sliver of fault that can stand in the way between me and my dream. 

… 

*The woman enters Henry’s room 

Without letting a second pass, Henry asks, “Can we go outside today?!” 

Startled by the speed the woman unconsciously agrees.

 Not letting anything get in the way of Henry and his dream… Henry quickly starts to use the white cane and eventually with the help of the woman Henry makes it outside. 

I can’t see anything. I can hear the birds talking and the trees swaying. I can feel the grass creeping in and the hard surface (called rocks?) pushing against the soles of my slippers. But I can’t see. 

…

“Where is the light the man saw?” Henry asks the woman. 

Saddened by such a question, the woman answers by putting a hand on Henry’s shoulder and says, “You can feel it; it is the warmth that lies finely on your skin.” 

“Does it look the same as the one from the book?” asks Henry.

“The light the man saw was a sunrise. This sun has already been up for some time now,” replies the woman. 

… 

It is this fatality that burdens me so. Forty-five years of this darkness. I cared at first, but knowing that everyone except a minimal population can experience seeing, looking, and observing brought me anger and the utmost annoyance. Year after year, I expected the problem to be resolved; however, inevitably matters got worse putting me in a darkly shadowed trance. I considered ending my life but when reaching that step I met a woman who was so kind and read me stories bringing me to feel as if she was my mother. She was the light that I craved… her energy, her presence, her care. For a while, she helped me down the stairs that were filled with darkness. At last, I began to think about these stories. I too could become strong and make vision not only a part of my dictionary but something I can feel and let me say “Oh what a sight!” 

It really was a dream, my first ever true desire in life. But the time slipped away from under my feet and brought me to endless hours of bedrest, entrapping me away from the outside world, and creating great distance between me and the desire I have most. 

Now, I stand here. Mom’s hand on my shoulder, my hand on a useless aluminum stick, and my thoughts straying me from a path of hope to a recognizable staircase step. A step filled and supported by a familiar darkness, one that I have been privileged to see for forty-five years and another that has been a friend to me since the beginning of my first dream. It is almost as if I have been living by the saying, “Find the light in the dark.” It is now with Mom’s hand on my shoulder that I have chosen to pursue my fate for I have challenged it for long enough. I will find the light in the darkness. I will. 

* Henry returned to his room flushed after landing on the final step. He has made it to the top of the hill. He marvels at the light that slowly illuminates his world’s abyss.