Maybe

Some men wish to go on vacation. Some wish for a boss who would give time off to explore, to get out of the same old daily lifestyle. 
And those are the things I’d wish for, too. I’d wish to see the sights of the world, to see culture and nature and a pathway of history unfold in front of my eyes. 
Yet I cannot. I cannot simply because of chance, some unforeseen gene. Because of chance, I cannot see. 
I cannot see the source of the birds’ song. I cannot see the tree that lets its leaves rustle with the breeze, I cannot see a simple smile from a friend. 
So no, I do not wish to see the world. All I feel the urge to see is one presence. All I crave to see in reality, not imagination, is the face of my love. My love whose voice is the only thing I know, whose words shape her being.  
Yet every time she asks me as I wake up if I can detect the magnificent morning rays beaming through window, I open my eyes to say, “No.” 
Of course she knows, and yet she does not understand. She has seen my face, comprehended my physicality and mentality to create one person. All I have of her is my imagination and her words. 
Some couples wonder if they’d have ended up together had sight not been a component. Had they online dated. “Would my mind have been enough?” 
I hope not to leave her wondering this. Of course her mind is enough. It’s the reason I was drawn to her. 
Yet here I am, on a bus to anywhere else. Because I can’t stand the thought of her living in a world where all she thinks she is to me is a well written memoir. 

Maybe, if she’s lucky, she’ll find someone who acknowledges her entirety, like she did mine. 

For now, though, I think I’ll travel. 

I don’t need sight to feel a breeze.