He carefully walked through the darkness of his home. He guided himself with his hand feeling the wall. He knew his way around, but at times objects got in the way and he would bump into them. Then he would say, “Pardon me,” not expecting a response he continued his way down the hall.
“Sarah,” he called out, but didn’t get an answer. She must be outside, he thought to himself. He slowly advanced toward an open space. His hand felt the corner of the wall. He kept his fingertips there, not certain if he wanted to let go. He has been at this point many times before. He really needed Sarah, his daughter.
There was a slight knock at the door. That couldn’t be Sarah, he thought. She must be milking the cows. Whoever it was knocked again.
“Who’s there!” he shouted at the door.
“It’s me, old friend,” came the response.
That’s a familiar voice, he thought. I know that voice.
“Just one moment,” he told the stranger. He lifted his fingertips away from the safety of the wall and proceeded towards the door. He carefully dragged his steps across the floor, trying to remember where objects were laid out in the room. He stretched out his arms to feel his surroundings. His awareness was heightened. He could hear his feet scrape the ground, as he felt his way around. He could never get use to the dark, but it was only interim. A light would come in handy or at least pragmatic for the moment, but that wasn’t possible. He had to settle for the darkness.
He was able to reach the door. He searched for the handle and gently opened the door. http://www.ontalkingterms.com/