My husband and I went out for dinner. We had a consistent flow of conversation. Behind us, there was a booth against the wall. I noticed a woman rhythmically rocking back and forth. As someone who is familiar with social anxiety, I felt for her. We shared a quick glance that showed understanding. At that moment, I caught my right eye twitching and my nervous habit of rubbing my right hand. Shortly after our appetizers arrived, she left.
Later, an older woman and two older men settled into the same booth. I noticed the woman was signing. I’m amazed when I see it. I don’t understand how American Sign Language can form so many words by only using two hands. There were two men in the booth sitting across from her. I think one may have been her significant other and the other, a relative. I could see them mouthing words. I wondered if something happened where this woman could no longer speak or hear. That thought made me thankful for my own sensory. If that was the case, her loved ones made the effort to learn ASL with her. What an act of love that would be.
I thought to myself, they could be in the loudest venue and easily hold a conversation. In contrast, I could only imagine the challenges dark or crowded settings pose.
Close behind losing loved ones or myself, the loss of eyesight or hearing is my greatest fear.
There are terrible and grim things that happen in this world. However, there is just as much beauty in its sights and sounds. Each time I see a sunset, I think of my mom lifting me up as a child to look out the window. Each time, I hear a motorcycle, I think about all the places my dad and I rode together. Each time I hear Pink’s song, ‘Family Portrait’, I remember my brother emotionally supporting me during our parents’ divorce.
I like to think if I eventually lost one of these ordinary, but generous gifts, I would be creative enough to create my own imagery, music, and sounds. Unfortunately, I think it would be difficult not to fall into a depression, thinking about what I lost. That’s why I take a few moments to appreciate all of this now.
If you were to lose your sight or hearing, what would you commit to memory? Would it be the faces or laughter of loved ones? Would it be your favorite song or movie? Please take a moment, to genuinely take in the beauty around you.
As always, I wish you the best.