Chapter 11. Different Eyes
It was summer when I began learning about herbs.An elderly woman was teaching me and another student who was twice my age. We walked through fields and gardens, learning to recognize medicinal plants, when to gather them, and how to dry and store them.
I listened carefully.
At that time, I was planning to study medicine at university.
After one of our lessons, we visited an old man who was well known for his knowledge of herbs and healing. People came to him from nearby villages and even from distant cities. Some arrived quietly. Others came desperate, carrying hope with them.
His house was simple.
He looked at the older woman first.
Then he looked at me.
He stepped closer.
Pointing at me, he said,
"She has different eyes. I will teach her."
For a moment, everything became still.
I was supposed to feel honored.
I was supposed to feel that a new door had opened.
But at that very moment, I was in love.
The man I loved was a police officer.
Suddenly, herbs, medicine, and hidden knowledge seemed less important than my desire to be close to him.
I decided not to study medicine.
Instead, I chose law.
I wanted to work where he worked.
I wanted to stand where he stood.
So I said no to everything else.
Years later, I sometimes wondered what my life might have become if I had walked through that door of herbs and hopes of different people.
