The Gifted's Gift
I am a nurse at the Children’s Care Hospital for almost three years. I’ve cared for many patients, but I later decided to work at a long-term care facility catering primarily to children needing a private nurse.
Two months after Martha Wendell was born, she was already going blind. Her corneas were cloudy, significantly affecting her life. I became her private nurse, responsible for maintaining her health and guiding her physical movements. I was like a second mother to her.
“Nurse Jess? Can you get my paper and pen?”
“Here you go, Martha! My little writer!”
I closely watched her grow, and I can confidently say she is an intelligent and positive girl. Martha keeps her face turned to the sunshine, even though all she can see are shadows. Her blindness has never been a hindrance to her, and we’ve always called her a Gifted Writer. She lacks sight but possesses vision.
At 17 years old, she had only improved her craft. Her penmanship is impeccable; she writes without ever going over the lines. But what amazes us most is the content of her work. Martha writes about the world’s beauty, perfectly describing every color and detail in nature. She began writing at just five years old, and even her private teacher admired her talent. We’ve often wondered how she visualizes these things and reasoned that she might be seeing them in her dreams.
“Martha? How do you know that forests are this beautiful?” I asked after reading her piece titled The Magical Forest.
“I feel it in my heart, Nurse Jess. I know it’s not just my imagination. It truly exists.”
Martha’s parents were overjoyed when they received written consent for eye donation. My little patient was ecstatic, knowing she had an eye donor. Corneal blindness can be cured through transplantation, made possible by eye donation. Martha needed to stay at the hospital to prepare for the procedure.
“I can’t wait to see your face, Nurse Jess,” she said excitedly.
“Mine? Or the world you describe so vividly in your writings?”
“All of it!” she exclaimed with glee.
One day, while rushing back to Martha’s room with her writing supplies, a boy in a high-tech wheelchair stopped me. He pointed to a piece of paper I’d accidentally dropped.
“Can I read this?” he asked.
I nodded, handed him the paper, and quickly returned to Martha’s room.
When I arrived, I found her crawling under the bed.
“What are you doing there?”
“I’m fine, Nurse Jess. I was looking for the cat.”
“A cat? There’s no—”
“Meow.”
Before I could finish, Martha stood up, cradling a white cat in her arms.
“What color is it, Nurse Jess?”
“It’s white,” I replied, smiling.
“Then your name is Whitey! Visit me often, okay?” she told the cat.
I set up her writing desk while she began working on another piece. I noticed the boy from earlier peeking into the room, still holding the paper. I gestured for him to come in.
“Who’s that?” Martha asked.
“Hi! I think this is yours,” the boy said, referring to the paper.
Martha furrowed her brows, confused. The boy stepped closer and froze when he noticed Martha’s condition.
“Oh, sorry! I read one of your works. It’s beautiful,” he said.
“How did you get that?” Martha asked.
“I borrowed it from Nurse Jess,” he answered nervously.
Martha introduced herself, and the boy shyly replied, “I’m Martin Edward.”
They quickly became friends. Martha would write, and Martin would eagerly read her pieces, always showering her with compliments. They laughed and bonded over their shared moments, setting aside the struggles of their respective conditions.
Months passed. Martin frequently visited Martha, always finding ways to make her smile. He confessed to me one day, “Nurse Jess, I think I’m in love with her.”
His love was evident in his every action, from telling her stories (even ones he learned from TV) to dreaming of a future with her. Martha’s parents noticed the change in their daughter’s mood, brightened by Martin’s presence.
One evening, after a quiet and heartfelt conversation between the two, Martha handed Martin a piece of paper she had been working on all day.
“Can I hear you read my newest work?” she asked, smiling as she passed it to him.
Martin held the paper carefully, his hands trembling slightly. He began to read aloud:
I still can’t believe that I met this man who always appreciates every bit of my work. A man who treated me with kindness during times I needed his support the most. A man who loves me despite my flaws. Yes, a boy like you is a great man. Talking to you is enough to make my entire day brighter. I may be blind, but deep inside, I see you clearly alongside my dreams—dreams I wish to fulfill with you by my side.
I have written the word Love many times with my pen. I’ve defined it as the most powerful force that helps people appreciate the beauty in the world. I never sought this kind of love, but the love you’ve shown me is my favorite—a love driven by the heart and pure feelings. When I feel butterflies in my stomach, miss the scent of your presence, hear the rhythm of my heartbeats, and see you in my dreams—when my heart touches yours—I will never hesitate to say these three words every day:
I love you, Martin
Written by: Martha.
Tears rolled down Martin’s cheeks as he finished reading. His lips trembled with emotion as he whispered, “This… this is the most beautiful gift anyone has ever given me.”
Martha tilted her head, curious. “Did you like it? I’m sorry if it’s a bit short. I just finished writing it.”
Martin smiled through his tears, leaned forward, and gently kissed her on the forehead. “Your birthday is tomorrow, but somehow, it feels like I’ve received the best gift of all.”
The next day, we planned a party at the hospital for Martha’s 18th birthday. Martin arranged a “date” for Martha, serenading her with a song as they sat side by side.
“Can I touch your face?” Martha asked.
“Sure,” Martin replied.
She gently traced his features with her hands, smiling as she imagined his appearance.
“You must be handsome,” she said.
“You’re never wrong in your descriptions,” he teased, making her laugh.
Finally, Martha’s transplant was scheduled. The surgery was successful, and her vision was restored.
“Nurse Jess, you’re so beautiful!” Martha exclaimed upon seeing me for the first time.
But her joy turned into worry when she noticed Martin was absent. I struggled to find the right words to tell her the truth. Martin had been battling cerebral palsy his entire life. His condition had worsened, and he had chosen euthanasia to end his suffering.
Martha was devastated. Tears streamed down her face as Diana, Martin’s nurse, handed her a letter he had made:
Martha,
I’m sorry that when you read this, I’ll no longer be by your side. Forgive me for making your birthday a bittersweet day. I’ve admired you from the moment I read your works. You opened my eyes to the beauty of the world, even though I could see it clearly with my own.
I didn’t realize when I started falling for you. Your resilience and positivity inspired me to dream again. Though we couldn’t chase those dreams together, I hope you’ll embrace my final gift to you. My eyes are yours now. See the world for both of us. Chase our dreams, my love.
- Martin
Martha sobbed but smiled through her tears, vowing to honor Martin’s memory. She would use her gift to live life fully, seeing the world not just for herself but for the boy who taught her the true meaning of love.
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