Richard
Michael’s approach to Elizabeth makes me want to break into applause. I don’t know what I expected, but this wasn’t it.
Together we lead my blindfolded wife from the dining room, along the long hall to the back stairway. Michael opens the creaking door then, still holding her fingers securely with one hand and with the other hand on the small of her back, guiding her, says, “Step, Beth, across a threshold and down.”
The door is narrow, too narrow for three, and I lose my hold on her, but Michael stays with her. “Twelve steps, Beth, but the stairs are wide. I’m to one side of you. Keep going.” His left hand in her left, with his right, he supports her, keeping her safe as they descend.
At the bottom of the steps, I reclaim her hand again, walking side by side with her. Elizabeth
