The Sound Barrier

Exactly 2

That’s the number of times most people tolerate being asked:  “Could you repeat that?”

Then conversations come to an abrupt halt, like a telephone line gone dead.

No one likes being hung up on, so I pretend to understand when I don’t.

I shake my head “yes” when the answer should be “huh?”

Being hearing impaired is like filling in the blanks of a Wheel of Fortune puzzle.

Ca_ You U_de_s_a_d _he Wo_ds Comi_g out My Mou__?

My ears are constantly tuned to a station with a weak signal.

Broken radios are considered throw-away items, so I hide my affliction.

It wasn’t always this way.

At first, I tried different techniques.

I asked for specifics: “Could you repeat the last THREE words?”

I gave instructions: “It helps if you enunciate and pause between the words.”

And when that didn’t work, I asked, “Could you just write it down?”

I glanced at the paper and pen pushed back at me, the backs of those who hear well as they walked away, and wondered what seemed so unreasonable about exerting ½ the effort I did.

I have a memory.  It is of walking down the street with a friend.

He is on my right and we are talking.

He places his hands at my waist and they guide me to the right.  He shifts to my left.

He knows I can hear better that way.

When I still don’t understand what’s said, he repeats himself a 3rd time.

It isn’t just the words I hear.

It is in moments like these that I know -

Even with these defective ears -

I am able to hear everything that’s really important.

© Camisha Jones, 2012

1935 Zenith radio