He took pictures of her closing her eyes and tilting her face to the sun. He took pictures of her staring off into space, as if deep in thought. And he took pictures of her bowing her head, as if those thoughts were too troubling to face.
Hardy watched her for nearly an hour before he realized he was technically late for their meeting. Stowing his camera back in its case, he untied his gift from the strap of the second case and stood to make his way to where Miracle still sat.
She must’ve heard his footsteps when he got closer. Miracle’s head jerked toward him and she smiled brightly. Almost too brightly.
Hardy knew the instant she made note of what he was carrying. He watched her smile fade and her chin begin to tremble. When he stopped in front of her, he saw the tears shimmering in her beautiful green eyes.
“What’s that?” she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.
“It’s a gift. For you,” Hardy said, offering her the ribbon attached to the bright red balloon he towed.
Miracle reached forward and took the balloon, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Hardy was at a loss. He’d thought it would make her happy, not make her cry. Fidgeting with the straps of the two camera bags, he confessed, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Miracle shook her head, visibly struggling to get a grasp on her emotions. “No, you didn’t. It’s just…it’s so…I’m just happy. That’s all. It’s very nice of you.”
Not knowing what else to do, Hardy moved to sit beside her on the bench. Miracle stared up at the balloon for the longest time before she spoke again.
Sliding her eyes to Hardy, she concluded, “You remember me.”
Holding her gaze, Hardy nodded.
Miracle looked back up at the balloon.
“I had kidney cancer. Oncocytoma. They removed my left kidney and were pretty sure that got it all, but I still had to have chemotherapy and some radiation. I was so sick during my treatments I didn’t feel like using my camera. I’d see all these amazing things I wanted to take pictures of, but I never seemed to feel like it. I promised myself that if I lived through the last treatment, I’d bring a red balloon to the park and get a picture of it drifting off into the sky. When I was so sick I could barely hold my head up, I could close my eyes and picture that scene. I think in my head, it was almost like watching my cancer disappear.”
Hardy remained silent. There were no words that could express how he was feeling. There was no way to tell her that his heart was breaking for her, that he would rather have taken those chemo treatments himself than for her to have to suffer through them. He knew it sounded absurd, probably was absurd, but in his soul he knew it was true. Somehow, Miracle had shaken him to his core.
Although they’d practically just met, Hardy wanted nothing more than to take Miracle in his arms and protect her from the world—from hurt, from illness, from suffering, from disappointment. He wanted to keep her safe and happy, to give her a life free from cares and worries.
Her soft, cool fingers on his arm brought him back to the present.
“Thank you,” she said again.
The words themselves were simple enough, but in her eyes was a depth of emotion, of gratitude that he couldn’t fathom. She appreciated in a way that most people never would. She appreciated like someone who had nearly lost everything and would never take another day, another breath for granted as long as she lived. She appreciated like someone who had looked death in the eye. And survived.
“My pleasure,” Hardy managed to squeeze out past the lump of uncharacteristic emotion in his throat.
He watched Miracle dig and claw her way out of the quicksand of bad memories and reach forward for the happiness of the moment, of the now. Her lips curved into a bright smile and her eyes glistened with pleasure.
She hopped up off the
Hardy watched her for nearly an hour before he realized he was technically late for their meeting. Stowing his camera back in its case, he untied his gift from the strap of the second case and stood to make his way to where Miracle still sat.
She must’ve heard his footsteps when he got closer. Miracle’s head jerked toward him and she smiled brightly. Almost too brightly.
Hardy knew the instant she made note of what he was carrying. He watched her smile fade and her chin begin to tremble. When he stopped in front of her, he saw the tears shimmering in her beautiful green eyes.
“What’s that?” she asked, a slight tremor in her voice.
“It’s a gift. For you,” Hardy said, offering her the ribbon attached to the bright red balloon he towed.
Miracle reached forward and took the balloon, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Hardy was at a loss. He’d thought it would make her happy, not make her cry. Fidgeting with the straps of the two camera bags, he confessed, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Miracle shook her head, visibly struggling to get a grasp on her emotions. “No, you didn’t. It’s just…it’s so…I’m just happy. That’s all. It’s very nice of you.”
Not knowing what else to do, Hardy moved to sit beside her on the bench. Miracle stared up at the balloon for the longest time before she spoke again.
Sliding her eyes to Hardy, she concluded, “You remember me.”
Holding her gaze, Hardy nodded.
Miracle looked back up at the balloon.
“I had kidney cancer. Oncocytoma. They removed my left kidney and were pretty sure that got it all, but I still had to have chemotherapy and some radiation. I was so sick during my treatments I didn’t feel like using my camera. I’d see all these amazing things I wanted to take pictures of, but I never seemed to feel like it. I promised myself that if I lived through the last treatment, I’d bring a red balloon to the park and get a picture of it drifting off into the sky. When I was so sick I could barely hold my head up, I could close my eyes and picture that scene. I think in my head, it was almost like watching my cancer disappear.”
Hardy remained silent. There were no words that could express how he was feeling. There was no way to tell her that his heart was breaking for her, that he would rather have taken those chemo treatments himself than for her to have to suffer through them. He knew it sounded absurd, probably was absurd, but in his soul he knew it was true. Somehow, Miracle had shaken him to his core.
Although they’d practically just met, Hardy wanted nothing more than to take Miracle in his arms and protect her from the world—from hurt, from illness, from suffering, from disappointment. He wanted to keep her safe and happy, to give her a life free from cares and worries.
Her soft, cool fingers on his arm brought him back to the present.
“Thank you,” she said again.
The words themselves were simple enough, but in her eyes was a depth of emotion, of gratitude that he couldn’t fathom. She appreciated in a way that most people never would. She appreciated like someone who had nearly lost everything and would never take another day, another breath for granted as long as she lived. She appreciated like someone who had looked death in the eye. And survived.
“My pleasure,” Hardy managed to squeeze out past the lump of uncharacteristic emotion in his throat.
He watched Miracle dig and claw her way out of the quicksand of bad memories and reach forward for the happiness of the moment, of the now. Her lips curved into a bright smile and her eyes glistened with pleasure.
She hopped up off the
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