Saturday night was another great farm-to-table dinner at the Wardlaw's.
(Don't worry -- I didn't have the apple pie so my Lent resolution is still intact. I even passed on some dark chocolate Reese's peanut butter cups today -- just barely.)
And, of course, music is always part of gatherings around here.Yes, you did indeed detect a slight bit of sarcasm there. See, I have this problem. My deafness really gets in the way at these social events. Often, things revolve around music. And dark campfires. It's hard.
It puts my handicap in boldface and ends it with a big, fat exclamation point. And I don't think anyone can really understand the feelings that it brings up -- even if they tried. After 30 years of silence, you'd think I'd be "used" to it, that my emotional armour would be tougher.
But it's not. It still cuts to the heart.
Helen Keller said it best: "When you lose your eyesight, you lose contact with things. When you lose your hearing, you lose contact with people."
She sums it up perfectly. It's not so much the loss of hearing, but the isolation that comes along with it. There's no feeling more lonely than being alone in a crowd.
That's why I write. And why I love the horses so much. They really could care less whether I can hear or not. They've always been my refuge.