The blind woman reaches her hand out, placing it weakly on Mira’s shoulder. 

“Can you describe it to me?” she asks Mira, “The light that graces all?” 

A moment of silence splits the air between them as Mira considers the request of the woman. 

How does one describe that which seemed to be infinite, yet finite? 

How does one describe that which needed no explanation, yet so few understood? 

How does a girl begin to describe a light, present at the beginning of all life, to a woman, who was present at the beginning of hers?

The air of silence shimmers as Mira sighs back to life, she squints her eyes as she looks up at the warm light, high in the sky above them. 

“It is warm.” Mira tells the woman, as she gently squeezes the hand on her shoulder. “It ripples through our body as a refreshing gush of purity. Under its gaze you feel as if no darkness could ever take root in your mind.

“It is distant.” the girl adds, “Like all wonders of the universe, it’s origin is of a nature none have come to understand. Under its presence you feel as if nothing else in this world need ever matter.” 

Mira pauses, turning to the woman. She sees a smile drawn across the woman’s face as her sightless eyes searched the sky. The golden light shone down on her face, as if to plant gentle kisses upon her wrinkled cheeks. 

‘It is beautiful.” the girl finishes, smiling mellowly as her eyes linger on the woman’s face.

“In gazing at it, you feel there is nothing more perfect you could possibly lay eyes upon. Under its guidance, you remember that its warmth is as unconditional as its place in all our lives. Scorching, but persevering.”

“Are you still describing the sun, Ira?” the woman asks curiously.

“No, Ma. I describe something much brighter and infinitely warmer than it.” Mira answers, tears rolling down her face.  

“Love?” the woman asks

“Love.” her daughter answers

The blind woman’s face lights up with a radiance Mira recognized immediately. It was that of her mother’s, the one she had loved for all her life. A sightless woman, who taught her the beauty of this unfair world. 

But the radiance disappears as quickly as it comes. The woman’s face returning to one of plain innocence and childish wonder. Her mother, disappearing once more into the back of her own mind.

With a new unmindful smile, the blind woman turns her head to Mira,

“Can you describe it to me?” she asks, reaching her hand out and placing it weakly on Mira’s shoulder, “The light that graces all?” 

“Sure, Ma.” Mira answers through gritted teeth and quivering lips. 

“A thousand times, for a million lifetimes. 

Again and again, if you’d like.”