To See and Hear

To See and Hear April 5, 2010

I couldn’t keep the damn glasses

clean. Kept wiping them and curs-

ing them. And my left ear was get-

ting worse. Those across the room

were shouting secrets behind a water-

fall. But I wasn’t ready. Kept wiping

the damn glasses. Kept trying to make

sense of things I couldn’t hear. I didn’t

feel stubborn. And I want so very much

to see and hear. Then after a long un-

folding, the cocoon my soul was eating

through gave way and I arrived in this

newness I can’t explain. Without put-

ting it all together, I realized it was

my eyes not the glasses. And the

waterfall was in my head. When the

optometrist flipped her lenses in the

dark, something deep inside let go.

When she reached the one through

which I could see, the tumblers in the

lock that is me fell open. When the

kind audiologist tucked the hearing

aid in my ear, the waterfall ceased. I

began to cry. Like the Wizard of Oz,

we become smaller and softer

when our curtain is pulled.

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