21 April 2011

Bora Bora

... at the end of our meeting, I asked him:
"Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

He blinked very slowly, looked up, and then looked straight into my eyes.
"Yes. I want to go to Bora Bora."

"Close your eyes again," I told him.

I have an abnormally big and bright computer monitor. I'm an expert at Google Image searching.

I moved the monitor as close to his bowed, furrowed brow as the cord allowed, hoping I wasn't about to cause some irreparable retina damage. I filled the screen with the aquamarine of Bora Bora.


As he opened his eyes, his entire face lifted. His lips parted to show some very well-kept dentures, and he let out a slow, enduring, overwhelming laugh--the laugh of a man who had lived for so long without permanence, so many days without a companion, a lifetime without a vacation.

In .13 seconds, a search engine found the joy that was buried deep within this old man, and it filled the room.

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