To: the hearing impaired me. Love: the deaf me.
Originally published at Strange Musings of a Distracted Spunk.
While
browsing around the internet, I found an article I wrote when I was
nine. Fourteen years ago. I remember sitting in a hotel room with my
dad in upstate New York, on our last family vacation before my parents
divorced, patiently editing and revising and writing. Apparently, even
when I couldn’t write well, I still strove to write. Shows how much of
this is innate.
browsing around the internet, I found an article I wrote when I was
nine. Fourteen years ago. I remember sitting in a hotel room with my
dad in upstate New York, on our last family vacation before my parents
divorced, patiently editing and revising and writing. Apparently, even
when I couldn’t write well, I still strove to write. Shows how much of
this is innate.
As
I read through, I laughed at my younger self. Things that didn’t seem
important to me then are now - isn’t that true of everyone? It just
goes to show how much we can change. Then I thought, what would I say?
Because the nine year old me has yet to see so much. In a post McGee wrote about time traveling, she asked what we would say to our past selves. I wrote, …honestly?
There’s nothing I can think of that I would tell myself. Though I
wouldn’t mind hearing from myself in five years and knowing where I am
then. I never really thought much about the future - just knew it was
out there. And someday it will be here.
I read through, I laughed at my younger self. Things that didn’t seem
important to me then are now - isn’t that true of everyone? It just
goes to show how much we can change. Then I thought, what would I say?
Because the nine year old me has yet to see so much. In a post McGee wrote about time traveling, she asked what we would say to our past selves. I wrote, …honestly?
There’s nothing I can think of that I would tell myself. Though I
wouldn’t mind hearing from myself in five years and knowing where I am
then. I never really thought much about the future - just knew it was
out there. And someday it will be here.
I was such a pragmatic kid. *shakes head*
Looking
back, however, while I can’t go back in time, it’s like a little piece
of time caught up with me. So. From the twenty three year old me to the
nine year old me. A little slice of the future. Welcome, darling. It’s
been an interesting ride, and I gather it’s only going to continue
being bumpy.
back, however, while I can’t go back in time, it’s like a little piece
of time caught up with me. So. From the twenty three year old me to the
nine year old me. A little slice of the future. Welcome, darling. It’s
been an interesting ride, and I gather it’s only going to continue
being bumpy.
Hi!
My name is DS. I am nine years old. I am hearing impaired. I wear
hearing aids. My little sister is also hearing impaired. That is what
this story is about.
This is not a story. A story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Or
some variation thereof. What you wrote? Is purely an article. I gather
for our age, we were rather intelligent. Not that that’s remotely a
surprise, given how intelligent and witty and charming we remain to
this moment, but it may take you a few years and MANY creative writing
classes to really understand what comprises a story.
My name is DS. I am nine years old. I am hearing impaired. I wear
hearing aids. My little sister is also hearing impaired. That is what
this story is about.
Sweetheart.
This is not a story. A story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Or
some variation thereof. What you wrote? Is purely an article. I gather
for our age, we were rather intelligent. Not that that’s remotely a
surprise, given how intelligent and witty and charming we remain to
this moment, but it may take you a few years and MANY creative writing
classes to really understand what comprises a story.
(click title for more)
