Answering a Writing Challenge II

Part II of a writing challenge by Elizabeth at 1sojournal:

I hear: nothing… just a vague rumble. I can feel the house buzzing under my feet; it feels as though a wind is hitting the side of the house and getting underneath the floorboards. But it could be pipes or the water tank… I don’t know.

I removed my hearing aids because my ears were tired. Sometimes they get sore and I have to rest them for a day or two.

If Mum comes in behind me and wants my attention, she will stamp on the floor or thump the desk so that I feel the vibrations.

I regret: breaking things. Hurting feelings. Mishearing or misunderstanding things, or expressing myself poorly, especially when it leads to missed opportunities.

I always: support myself when going downstairs. When you live with cats, it’s sensible to be prepared!

I cry: as privately as possible. I hate funerals for that reason… I will never go to anyone’s funeral ever again if I can avoid it… but I will find my own way of remembering people. I read about those who fear people won’t come to their own funerals, and I don’t understand at all. I wouldn’t care. I will have escaped!

I don’t always: know what’s going on. In fact that’s such an understatement it’s almost funny. You miss cues and information about what everyone is doing and where they’re going. You wait for people to say goodbye to each other so that you can say goodbye too at the right moment. You wave when everyone surges forwards, only for the conversation to continue… or for those people to reappear (seemingly as arranged) at the next place. Then people finally leave, rushing off just as you’re looking the other way.

I fight: when I’m angry.

I write: more than I speak.

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5 responses

  1. I read this very carefully, twice. We have a great deal in common and that’s great to know. I always hang on when going down stairs because it hurts to do so, and I’m terrified of falling and breaking my brittle bones (I don’t have cats anymore, and would, if I could, rather have a dog, a very large dog).
    I’ve had a hearing aid for two years and, because I live alone, have to make a real effort to remember to wear it when I leave home. Therefore, each time I do so, am startled anew at how loud the world is. And how really distracting that can be. Which only underscores the fact that I seldom know what’s really going on, lol. I know hundreds of individuals who have no problem letting me know their version of that.
    Which brings me to my last point. If we should pass away at the same time, perhaps we could make a pact to get together and say hello?

    Elizabeth

  2. “I always: ”

    Oh man, tell me about it. Mine’s bright white, but that doesn’t help when he’s right at the top.

  3. Hi Elizabeth, I would love that. 🙂 We should bring pen and paper with us when we go… best to have two or three pens as one always runs out! (Or maybe it’s the ‘run out’ ones we would be using. What a thought).

    The world is amazingly loud… people speak loudly too, and I never understood how necessary it was till my voice therapist showed me. I think that animals would consider we are all hearing-impaired, not just some of us. 🙂

    I would go for a larger dog too… I thought maybe a lurcher, but they might not be the best breed if there are any cats around.

    Pacian, does the space cat rocket past you? OK, terrible joke. Samson is particularly bad for that, though they all do it, really.

  4. I’m putting a bid in for a hand-held puter with a brown looks like leather case that will fit in my matching tote, lol. No more pens that leak and pencils that can’t withstand a bit of emotional overload.

    Have you ever read Kinship With All Life? The author believes that animals understand our thoughts, not our words. That might quiet of few of us, considerably.

    My last dog was a Norwegian Elkhound who expected me to protect her from all comers. She was a sweetie unless someone threatened my roommate, then she became Kujo. We had a gray tabby called Spoo (OOps spelled backwards) because of the mess she made before we even got her home. And another cat that was a Russian Blue named Sasha. We really do have a lot in common.

    Elizabeth

  5. I’ve not heard of the book you mention, though animals do seem to understand our body language. If I smile, so do they, and if I look uncertain, their ears start flickering. 🙂

    We’ve had cats caught short in the car too… not fun, LOL. (Reaches for tissue).

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