I
In the last years of high school I learnt how to study; in seminary, how to act. My frequent absences from school had left a hole in my religious education, so at age 18, after a very positive heart scan, my parents decided to send me to seminary in Israel.
As a trained observer, I looked around at the girls and realized that each one had her own small secret or weakness she was afraid of sharing. With this understanding, I was able to reach out and connect with everyone, quickly creating a large circle of new friends. In the classroom and dorms, I was the confident center of things.
But on hikes, everything was different.
At the start of the trail, I charged ahead, desperate to prove to myself that I could do anything. Soon, my friends overtook me, one by one, with a quick query if I was okay. As I trailed behind down another rocky mountain, one friend relaxed her pace to join me. Noticing my thoughtful expression, she paused and asked, “Want to share…?”
What could I tell her? That I was legally blind, and could barely see the step ahead of me? When I had confessed to the tour guide on one trip, she had immediately sent someone to babysit me for the rest of the hike. No thank you.
