Medvedev Dmitriy: http://www.proza.ru/2012/01/09/946
From the moment of my birth, the illness took my hearing. Then the speech. Now the sight as well. I sit on another persons’ celebration, imagining the people at my table talking and laughing. I smile. This illusion, of everything being fine, is very important to those around me. Even to those who throw glimpses at me, believing that staring is impolite, despite me not seeing this. Even to those, who look away, feeling slightly ashamed of their health in my presence, even though my sickness is not their fault. I imagine taking part in their conversation and understanding what’s it about, I nod and smile. I want to say something too, no matter what, just to keep the illusion going. My guide responds to my gestures. She takes my hands and by making few signs, she lets me know that the table is empty- everyone gone dancing. By my touches I let her know that I want to as well.
I dance and as usual, I smile to the darkness and silence around me. My dreams are simple and plain: make me a gift of senses. I want to see the faces of the people, I want to hear the music playing, I want to sing along to the song. I will dance and smile, even if everyone will suddenly break in tears, even when the music ends. I will repeat the simple, not too rhythmic motions, until someone will touch my shoulder, letting me know that it’s all over.
I’m like you in something. I’m afraid of loneliness. I want to find my other half. I want family and children, who will hold small disappointments and large celebrations. I don’t care if my kids aren’t the smartest or prettiest. I just want them to be healthy. That their first emotions will be based on curiosity and love to their surrounding, not jealousy of their peers and contemplations of the worlds’ injustice.
I’m like you in something, but unlike you, I’ll never see my child, won’t hear his voice, won’t tell him all that’s on my heart. Unlike you, I pray every day that my yet to be born child will never become in the slightest bit like me.
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At the photo: artist of the “Na-Lagaat” theater (“Please, touch”, who suffer from the Usher syndrome- a genetic illness, causing deafness at birth and progressing loss of sight. Currently, the illness has no cure.