I can't explain how it feels like to be blind. I don't have anything I can compare it to. I have always been blind. People always feel embarrassed when they use the word 'see' and then remember that I can't. But I don't care. It's just another word without meaning to me, like colors or the sun, moon, stars, rainbow, clouds, lightning and anything else that describes what you can see.
I don't mind. I can feel, sense, hear, smell and taste just fine. As I was born blind, I do not miss what I never had.
I am Samantha Johnson. I'm sixteen and the youngest of five children. I'm currently sitting on a tombstone in our local cemetery because I had a fight with my mom.
She is waaaayyyy to protective of me. She keeps imaging the worst happening to me. My dad explained it like this. When she closes her eyes and pretends to be blind, she remembers seeing and can't work without sight. She can't comprehend living without being able to see. And it scares her, so she's automatically scared for me.
It doesn't make much sense to me, but then lots of things seeing people do make no sense.
My oldest brother is coming towards me. When he is a couple of meters away he stops.
'Hi Sam.'
'Hi Case,' I turn my face towards him and smile.
He comes closer and sits next to me on the tombstone.
'Mom says she is sorry and would you please come back home. It's midnight and too dangerous.'
I giggle. This is so funny.
'Case, tell me. How can the night be more dangerous to me than the day? There are less cars driving around, less people, less sounds. It's safer for me when everyone else is indoors and sleeping.'
Case puts his arm around my shoulder.
'I know, but mom will not accept that. For her the dark, the night, is dangerous. She can see. Don't hold that against her.'
He stands up and grabs my hand.
'Lets go home.'
He gives my hand a tug and reluctantly I slide of my seat. He knows better than to guide me. I let my arms hang relaxed at my sides and spread the fingers in my hands. Then I start walking past Case to where he parked his bike.
I stop in front of the bike and search lightly for the second helmet. Case loves putting it on different places and watch me find it. Don't ask me why. Like I said, some things seeing people do don't make sense. I find the helmet and put it on. Case swings onto the bike and I climb on after. I hold on to his waist and of we go.
Case drops me off at home. He is ten years older than me and moved out a couple of years ago. He shares an apartment with a few friends. Mom always calls him when I run off. For the first time I wonder why.
I climb of and hand him the helmet. He gives me one last hug and drives away. I spread my fingers again and walk into the house. My dad is waiting for me.
I want to go past him but he stops me with a hand on my arm.
'I know this is hard on you, Sam.' he says.
'But could you humour your mom a bit, please? She's just so worried about you.'
I turn to him. 'Do you know what you are asking?'
I shake my head. 'No you don't. But you will.'
I go into the living room. Mom is sitting on the couch. When I turn the corner, she jumps up and hurries over to me. I can feel her agitation and worry like waves of energy that she pushes ahead of her.
She hugs me for a long time. I return the hug softly. I pull back and she lets me go reluctantly.
'Sam, I am so sorry.' She says. 'I didn't mean anything I said. Please forget about it.'
I move back even further. I know my dad and my other three siblings are within hearing distance. I face my mother and tilt my head to the left.
'Forget it?' I ask. 'Somehow I don't think I can do that, mom.'
I point to where the rest of the family is.
'Do you really want to do this in front of an audience this time?' I turn to go.
'I don't. Good night mom.' I go to my room and close the door.
A soft knock on the door startles me. Normally I know when someone approaches, but I'm preoccupied today. I open the door to let my sister Carley in. She is the second youngest and only two years older than me. She's also a chatterbox and extremely curious but keeps all my secrets exactly that: secret.
She slips in and closes the door. She then proceeds to hug me and I hug her back. Then I go sit on the bed and she lies down next to me.
'So?' She asked. I know what she wants.
'She worries to much about me.' I feel on my night table for a plushie. I use it to keep my hands occupied while I talk. It's easier to order my chaotic thoughts that way. Talking to Carley is like talking to a psychiatrist. It gives you clarity in your own life.
'She actually told me that she will always take care of me and that I could always rely on her to be there and that I didn't need to be able to make my own food because she will always have it done for me.' I rant in one breath.
I twist the toy in my hands.
'She doesn't want me to be independent, ever. I'm not allowed out at night, as if that makes any difference to me! She doesn't believe me that I am safe when I go out. She wants to get me a blind dog.'
In rage I throw the stuffed animal across the room. Now I don't have anything to play with. I picture my room layout and find what I am searching for. I reach my hand in that direction and a couple of seconds later my big teddy bear touches my fingers.
I pull my legs up and sit taylor fashion on the bed, cuddling the big teddy bear.
