She sees more good in people than is probably there. Everyone is her equal. Life is not viewed as her obstacle and she has never glimpsed nor found others much different than herself. Her sights are set on more important things. She envisions a world of hope others may never see and knows the value of a slow, certain pace to navigate it. Foresight is overrated and hindsight has taught her nothing. Sunrises are for feeling, moonbeams are for imagining, and the winds carry her to exotic, faraway lands of her mind. She has heard more stories and touched more people in her 82 years than in most lifetimes combined, faced more discrimination, and learned there are no rose colored glasses to change what is. And that love was indeed, blind, just like her.
Just like her.
Rest in peace, Margaret, and for the very first time, watch the heavens open just for you.
You waited blind for an entire lifetime to see this.