By Sylvia Heike
I am born without sight. My first sensations of the world consist only of what I sense with my remaining four: the warmth of my mother and twin brother, the faint lingering smell of strange foods on her breath, the creamy almost nutty-sweet taste of mother’s milk, and the soft shuffling footsteps of my mother’s movement.
My mother cannot speak, so I mostly listen to the weather, comfortably nestling in the bed I share with my brother. When it rains, I feel the rise in humidity, but I never go out in the rain. The loudest sound I hear is thunder, but safe in my bed, I am not scared of its distant rumbling. Birdsong is the most recurring disturbance to my days of lull, and usually not enough to fully wake me.
[Read more…] about Mother?