I close my eyes and travel to another time. Dressed in pajamas, I’m standing barefoot on matted carpet in an apartment. Clink! Clang! Bam! Familiar sounds of my deaf mom doing dishes. The comforting smell of her au gratin potatoes and garlic chicken surrounds me. I’m home. Here, there are no inside walls to hide secrets. No windows for others to see in, though sunlight finds a way—even in the corner where a big bear curls itself in a hairy ball and pretends to sleep. Its belly swells with long snorting breaths then shrinks as air rushes past its flapping lips, the signal it wants to play our game.
Waking the Bear
Waking the Bear
Waking the Bear
I close my eyes and travel to another time. Dressed in pajamas, I’m standing barefoot on matted carpet in an apartment. Clink! Clang! Bam! Familiar sounds of my deaf mom doing dishes. The comforting smell of her au gratin potatoes and garlic chicken surrounds me. I’m home. Here, there are no inside walls to hide secrets. No windows for others to see in, though sunlight finds a way—even in the corner where a big bear curls itself in a hairy ball and pretends to sleep. Its belly swells with long snorting breaths then shrinks as air rushes past its flapping lips, the signal it wants to play our game.