Sound of Music

I sometimes ask Mama why I have ears, especially when I have no use for ‘em.

Hey, it’s not like that, her fingers say, one day you will be able to use them. With all the technology we have now…

But I tell her that it’s OK, and I hug her ‘cause I know she didn't really understand what I asked. It’s all right, I don’t want new ears.

Really, I’m pretty OK with me, just the way the teachers say I’m supposed to be.

The others aren't though. They keep making sad eyes when they see me, and tell Mama that they’re proud of me and that I’m a big, strong girl. They ask me how I manage, how I'm so happy despite being deaf. I shrug. It’s no big deal, I say.

The one thing that really made me upset was that I didn't know what music was. I didn't like not knowing... My brother plays the piano, and everyone says he plays well, but I didn't really understand it. Until one day, my teacher said, music is beauty.

That’s all she said. But it really changed me. I asked her to explain music even more and she said she didn't need to, she said I was real smart, and I would figure it out.

And I did.

My brother once told me that energy is neither created nor destroyed, and I didn't really understand it then, and I don’t understand it now, but I guess it means energy is always there. And so is beauty. So when others enjoy what they hear during concerts, I enjoy what I see. For the rest of the audience, music is the notes they hear, but for me, music is what I see. And I see the players being real happy when they play; I see their smile and their concentration. I see their love for their instrument. When I tell Mama this, she says I am real smart.  She says I’m right, that others hear the music, and I see it.

So now, I try to record what I see by writing and painting. I let the colors take over me, and do what they want and I ask my brother if playing the piano feels the same way, if the notes and keys take over him, and he nods and smiles. He says that I've got the real essence of music.

So when others ask me what I like to do, Mama tells them I’m a musician, the special kind who plays with colors and not strings or keys, and that my music is not very different from my brother’s, because in the end, we both create beauty.