A crowded patio at night.

The man has sturdy legs and broad shoulders. He’s handsome and looks comfortable in his own skin, like he’s very good at whatever it is he does for a living and is used to moving fluidly through the world. Behind him, holding his one hand with her two, is a blind woman. She is stunning in her beauty, radiant, even. Looking at her it feels possible that a mountain stream had assumed the form and flesh of a woman and appeared amidst us like a miracle. Those of us who are watching her have no conscious choice in the matter. There is something that pure and commanding about her beauty.

She’s blinking awkwardly into the lights above the bar as the man explains the topography of the patio she is trying to navigate through.

“There’s some uneven ground here, and then a slight step up. You okay?”

She nods wordlessly.

As they pass through the thicket of tables and chairs and people, every set of eyes are upon her. Conversations are falling silent, heads are turning and imaginations are sparking. Everybody is watching, trying to enter into the mystery of her life, trying to understand the uncanny sense of relief– of hope, even– we all felt in seeing a person so unable to apprehend her own powerful beauty, a person so unsullied. She moves through us like a saint through fire, and maybe she feels our eyes upon her, feels the hunger and predation that haunt a bar like this, but maybe, perfect in her own wilderness, she feels nothing. She moves closer to the man as the level of spatial complexity increases, dropping one hand from his and letting it idle in the back pocket of his jeans.

And just beyond them a red traffic light sways above the intersection while a bat swoops down through the night and across the clear, crisp moon. Each person there wanting to tell her about the moon, the beautiful moon, and how hopefully we’d throw ourselves into that unknowable night, just to touch it’s face.

This is his first press conference:

************************************

3:24 P.M. EDT

Elmo: Hi everybody!

Guess what Elmo is thinking about today!!

Afghanistan!!!

Afghanistan starts with the letter A!!

Do you know what else starts with the letter A??

Attitude! Elmo hopes all of you people in the press have really good attitudes today!!

President Trump is ordering another 4,000 troops into Afghanistan. President Trump took over a mess, and now America, and her global allies and partners, are going to make things a lot messier! Elmo loves to make a mess! Do you like to make a mess? America will be making a mess of terrorists in order to clean up the mess the previous administration made of Afghanistan! So remember, America will not be nation building, America will be killing terrorists!

Terrorists are bad!

Yay, America!!

Can you guess what else Elmo is thinking about today?

Anybody??

No?

Ha, ha! Maybe you want to dance with Elmo? Elmo just loves to dance!

( Elmo dances)

Oh, Elmo so tired from dancing, Elmo almost forgot what Elmo was thinking about! Elmo remember! Elmo was thinking about Fake News!

Boo, Fake News, Boo!

Fake News is just about as bad as the terrorists!! Poor President Trump, he just wants to make America great again, and he has to fight terrorists AND fake news!! Such a hero!! Elmo loves heroes! Let’s all stand up and clap our hands for heroes!! Yay!!!

Elmo wants to say that although it is true President Trump briefly sized up the sun during yesterday’s eclipse, the President is not blind and is in perfect health!

That was fake news!! Elmo hates fake news! Elmo thinks that President Trump has such energy he might live forever! He is healthiest, most patriotic President of all time!! But even if the President had suffered significant blurring and fading of his vision during his encounter with the sun, which he hasn’t, there have been many great blind people in history! Do you like history?? Elmo loves history!

History says that America is great!

History also says that Daredevil was blind! And even blind Daredevil could still destroy all his enemies!!

Maybe Daredevil will visit Afghanistan?! Elmo thinks that would be so much fun! Wouldn’t that be fun?!

Remember to check Twitter to see when Daredevil might be appearing in Afghanistan!!

History also says that the great poet Milton was also blind, as well as musician Jose Feliciano!

And look, here’s Mister Jose Feliciano! Would you play a song for Elmo Mister Feliciano?!

Yay!! But first, Elmo thinks it is important to say that Mister Jose Feliciano is from Puerto Rico, not Mexico as many seem to think!

Elmo loves you Mister Jose Feliciano, thank you for the beautiful song!

Such a fun press conference!

Before Elmo leaves today Elmo wants to say just a few words about Jerry Lewis. That man kept us all laughing for over half a century, and his incredible charity work touched the lives of millions. Jerry lived the American Dream—he truly loved his country, and his country loved him back. Our thoughts are with his family today as we remember the extraordinary life of one of our greatest entertainers and humanitarians. Thank you, Jerry. You will be missed.

Elmo loves you all!!

Kiss, kiss!

Two years or more, probably.

Stepping out of the car at the Port Stanley beach, I was hit by the smell of deep friers and sunscreen. Beachgoers played volleyball or tried to bronze themselves for the perfection that the cities they lived-in demanded, and children, like radiant beasts, played– their happiness a wildfire burning along the surf. Overhead the gulls flew, their shadows rippling along the sand, a kind of double life,

and then, looking forward, there was Lake Erie stretching out as far as you could see until it became sky.

Like the pilgrim I was, I walked down to the water. Standing up to my knees, an oxygen tank slung over my shoulder, I closed my eyes and held out my arms, waiting for something to wash through me and lift all the scars, bruises and fears of the last couple of years free from my body.

It seemed like a perfunctory, symbolic act rather than a felt one though, and I trudged back to our towels feeling a little disappointed. As I looked around I noticed a blind woman sitting nearby. Pale, thin and out of fashion, she looked like she had been confined to an indoor life of illness and uncertainty, and that this, this outing was a step outside of the protected, comfort zone she typically inhabited. But she did not look happy. She sat in a rigid, defensive posture, her face turned away from things, her fingers worrying some rosary beads she kept clutched in her hands.

I wondered if she was praying.

I wondered if I, too, had been praying when I stood in the water.

An older woman who must have been her mother sat next to her. She looked quietly off at the lake. And so the two of them stared off at separate horizons, the silence between them hanging there like a shared, unspoken disappointment.

After about fifteen minutes had passed they got up to leave. As delicate as a geisha, the blind girl slipped her feet into the sandals her mother had bought for her, and quietly taking her arm, began the journey toward the parking lot, never a word uttered between them.

As she moved from the hot sun and shifting sand of the beach to the level cement and cooling shade under a restaurant’s awning, she would not have seen the elderly and infirm arrayed there. Sitting silently in wheelchairs, each one with an attendant behind them, they all stared off toward the water. Bodies twisted and agonized, mouths hanging open and useless, it was as if they were waiting for a blessing or miracle. And the blind girl, so quietly it felt like she could have been floating, passed through them in her darkness like a saint through flame. It felt at that moment that a message was being delivered, and that everybody there that day, summoned by something just beyond the water, were gathered to receive it, but try as we might, it would elude our mortal grasp.