A perfectly layered blend of orange, pink, and purple splashed across a cloudless, deep blue October sky.
For a moment, the noise from the well-traveled street that I stood before, went silent. The disquietude of my thoughts were muted.
I was alone in perfect silence with a clear and chromatic portrait of nature’s subtle grace.
And then…
As I took another deep drag on my cigarette, the lack of earthly sound was etched and scribed upon by the sound of heavy breathing. But, it wasn’t mine.
I turned around to see a young woman who lives in the neighborhood, running through the back entrance of the Drive-Thru.
I smiled and asked her if I could help her. She said that she needed a 2 Liter of Diet Pepsi. And then I asked her…
“You ran down here for that?” She responded…
“I had to. Supper’s ready.” I handed her the Diet Pepsi, she flashed a never before seen smile and then softly repeated, “Supper’s ready.”
I smiled back, handed her the change, and then as she walked away, I became oddly emotional. Not quite sad, not quite joyful, but the result left me with tears beginning to well up.
You see, when this young woman said to me in a clear, yet winded voice, “Supper’s ready.”, I didn’t hear her voice, I heard my mom’s voice.
I was instantaneously transported to the semi-finished basement in my mom and dad’s house some 30 or more years ago.
I was reminded of the times of when I was a kid and sitting in the basement watching TV after school.
And then…
As I took another deep drag on my cigarette, the lack of earthly sound was etched and scribed upon by the sound of heavy breathing. But, it wasn’t mine.I turned around to see a young woman who lives in the neighborhood, running through the back entrance of the Drive-Thru.
I smiled and asked her if I could help her. She said that she needed a 2 Liter of Diet Pepsi. And then I asked her…
“You ran down here for that?” She responded…
“I had to. Supper’s ready.” I handed her the Diet Pepsi, she flashed a never before seen smile and then softly repeated, “Supper’s ready.”
I smiled back, handed her the change, and then as she walked away, I became oddly emotional. Not quite sad, not quite joyful, but the result left me with tears beginning to well up.
You see, when this young woman said to me in a clear, yet winded voice, “Supper’s ready.”, I didn’t hear her voice, I heard my mom’s voice.
I was instantaneously transported to the semi-finished basement in my mom and dad’s house some 30 or more years ago.
I was reminded of the times of when I was a kid and sitting in the basement watching TV after school.
Typically, about two hours into watching reruns of 60’s and early 70’s sitcoms, my mom’s voice would ring down the steps saying, “Matthew, supper’s ready.”
If brothers or sisters were with me, mom would say, “C’mon on guys, supper’s ready.”
It was never, “Dinner’s ready.” It was always, “Supper’s ready.”
Typically, when I think of my mom or dad, who are both gone, I smile and chuckle.
This time, the context of the situation and the interaction with this particular woman forged a different reaction. And, for good reason…
The woman who ran down to get the 2 Liter of Diet Pepsi, is profoundly deaf. For a year and a half, whenever she came in to buy something it was always a struggle.
If brothers or sisters were with me, mom would say, “C’mon on guys, supper’s ready.”
It was never, “Dinner’s ready.” It was always, “Supper’s ready.”
Typically, when I think of my mom or dad, who are both gone, I smile and chuckle.
This time, the context of the situation and the interaction with this particular woman forged a different reaction. And, for good reason…
The woman who ran down to get the 2 Liter of Diet Pepsi, is profoundly deaf. For a year and a half, whenever she came in to buy something it was always a struggle.
She couldn’t hear and as a result could not talk very well, and I not knowing sign language was unable to communicate well with her.
She recently had a cochlear implant operation. This was the first time I had seen her since the procedure. It was the first time I had seen her acknowledge my voice and respond to me in somewhat broken, but clear speech.
I am not certain as to why I cried. Maybe they were tears of sorrow because I miss Mom.
She recently had a cochlear implant operation. This was the first time I had seen her since the procedure. It was the first time I had seen her acknowledge my voice and respond to me in somewhat broken, but clear speech.
I am not certain as to why I cried. Maybe they were tears of sorrow because I miss Mom.
Maybe they were tears of joy because this woman smiled knowing that she could communicate clearly in the hearing world.
Maybe, my tears of were that of gratitude because the first words spoken to me by her elicited a comforting albeit bittersweet memory of my mom.
I guess it really doesn’t matter what the reason is. After all was done, we were both happy…we both smiled.
She smiled because of her future, and I, after the tears had dried, smiled because of my past.
Shortly after our meeting and my thoughts about it, I went back outside, re-lit my cigarette, and looked at the faltering yet still colorful sky.
Maybe, my tears of were that of gratitude because the first words spoken to me by her elicited a comforting albeit bittersweet memory of my mom.I guess it really doesn’t matter what the reason is. After all was done, we were both happy…we both smiled.
She smiled because of her future, and I, after the tears had dried, smiled because of my past.
Shortly after our meeting and my thoughts about it, I went back outside, re-lit my cigarette, and looked at the faltering yet still colorful sky.
This time, the beauty of the sky was not nearly as quiet. This time, it spoke volumes.
Cheers!!
Cheers!!
