Blind Not Oblivious

One

I remember it vividly. I awoke with a blood curdling scream. I could feel the darkness surround me, yet I couldn't see it. All I saw was white. A blank space. A blanket of snow. A blinding light covered all of the intense shades of life.

In the midst of this life changing night, I thought of death. Was this my fate? Was I staring into the irises of the eyes of Heaven? Little did I know that death was actually an outcome that would have been better.

As I stared into the expanding white, I felt hands on my body struggling to wake me from my nightmare, but I still lie awake. I soon realized the rough hands from many years of fixing the roof and playing catch belonged to my father. I must have not heard him come in since the rumbling above me was so loud.

All I could hear was a roar like a lion next to my bed or a plane flying over my head. Also a high pitched frequency screamed at me, piercing my eardrums.

I had not begun to panic yet. My mind calmly registered I had gone blind and most likely deaf. I wish I could stay my mind stayed in this tranquil state forever. But I am human. And fear is a sense I could not lose.

I began to feel panic rise in me like a pot of boiling water someone left on the stove when I realized I lost the ability to speak. I tried screaming at my parents to let them know I was fine but I choked on my own words. The vibrations of my voice were caught between the walls of my throat. I had lost my eyes and ears, why must my mouth run away as well leaving me helpless?

As I felt my composure slowly slipping away I tried out my other senses - well the ones I had left. My nose felt sore and burnt as I inhaled what smelled like smoke or fire. I tested my sense of touch. I wrapped my hands on my father's arm but only felt needles on my fingertips.

I was then lifted out of my bed and carried away, hearing my mother softly wailing under all the chaos. As we rushed down the hallway I stuck my hands out. I stung my fingertips as I felt my hand run along the wall of my home. Possibly the last time I would see - or feel - the chipped beige paint.

As my fathers embrace was released as he set me in the car I couldn't help but think - what if that hurried, rushed, panicked, shaking embrace was the last one I ever felt.