twoblueviolets

I am eight. I sit across from my mom in my pediatrician’s office on the paper-covered table. The paper is crinkled and uncomfortable. My mother’s head is cupped in her hands as the pediatrician leaves the room.

Cracked pavement tells the story that time refuses to forget. 

And while tree roots weave their way underneath the ashen pavement, 

Time is dripping away from me. 

I hate the fact that so many people make assumptions.

About me.

The “fact” that because I have hearing aids means that I am deaf.

It didn’t occur to me, not on the first day, or the second

* * *

If you asked me to describe the job 

I’ve never been religious much —

My Faith is in the trees.

The sort of Lord I worship flies among the Bumblebees.

And my idea of Heaven is buried ‘neath Her leaves —

Have you ever met someone who truly feels like your other half? Who completes you? Not even romantically, I mean even a friend who mirrors your soul, reflecting back the sweetest parts. Well, I met one of these people last spring.