Not a Blueprint: It's the Shoe Prints That Matter

Christmas wouldn’t be the same. The traditional love and cheerfulness was missing, replaced by love and sadness. China’s sickness dampened our spirits. The severity of her sickness had stricken the hearts of us all. Openly, we’d speak about other everyday crises, but this topic wouldn’t be talked about. Our circuit of silence would remain medically sealed, for now. The time must be right to reveal how ill China really was; somehow, the time never seemed right. She was delicate and sensitive, but she had to learn the truth someday. Until then, all she’d know was that her illness required doses of medicine. China always had a way of expressing her disappointment. Her thoughts and questions glistened from her eyes. China was gifted with eyes that made a statement without words, a trait she used to her advantage. She had those dreamy eyes that would make one fall in love. She was contained in thought, but her eyes lifted up to me. It was a look that appeared to say, Why me? I haven’t begun to live! I must take control of this thing inside me.

Even though those words weren’t spoken, her eyes said them.