A Miracle of Love

刘穆宁

In 2000， Jodi O'Donnell-Ames had a lot going on： Not only was she working， but she was taking care of her daughter and her husband， Kevin， who was suffering from Lou Gehrig's Disease （运动神经元病）. Being a caretaker is never easy， and on a random afternoon after Labor Day， her brother decided to carve her a slice of optimism.

While a day at the beach sounded blissful （极幸福的）， it was too much to ask from Kevin. A day at the beach was like running a marathon—an extraordinary event. It would mean having help with us， having medical equipment， keeping the wheelchair and medical equipment free of water and sand， it would mean keeping Kevin cool and comfortable， and it would mean a tough day for everyone involved. After running errands （事情）， I got to our home and I saw my brother's car. After asking me to wait before coming in， he covered my eyes with a scarf and took my hand. Once inside， he asked me to sit down and then took off my shoes and socks. My foot did not land on a brick patio （平臺）， but rather， something cool and scratchy. I soon realized that my toes were sinking into sand. It was a beautiful morning and the sand felt cool and welcoming under my feet. Still blindfolded， Jamie then guided me to sit down on a towel. Then he sat behind me and held me in his arms. Seagulls screeched in front of me. Mists of water speckled my face.

“Here you go，” said my brother， handing me a hot latte and biscotti. We sat there， not needing to say anything. He embraced me while I sipped my coffee and nibbled my biscotti. I was in awe. What a miracle of love！ I hadn't made it to the beach that summer but my brother had brought the beach to me！ It was the nicest thing that anyone had ever done for me. It was perfect. For 15 minutes， until Kevin woke and needed care， I was at the beach. When my basking was over， my brother gently removed my blindfold. Now I could see where I really was. The patio was covered in sand. A CD player sat on the brick wall， inside were sounds of the ocean. He had supported the hose （橡皮管） on a bucket and the water was set to sporadically mist.

With my eyes open， the beach was gone. But that memory， that sincere gesture of love and hope， kept me basking in happiness for a long time.