Last night Lyle and I were at a concert. As we waited for the performance to begin, I heard the woman sitting behind me remark that although she couldn’t see anything, she would be able to hear. Her comment mirrored my own thoughts. I knew that I couldn’t see the members of the choir in front of me, but I also knew that I would be able to hear their voices.
Some people express surprise when I tell them that I have been to a concert or a movie or some other performance. They ask what I get out of these things when I can’t see. I try to explain that sight isn’t the only aspect of enjoyment.
I do think that over the years of my diminished sight, I have become more attuned to sound. I like the sounds of our house. I like the hum of the fan when I turn our fireplace on in the morning. Often I can hear the barking of the neighbour’s dog. From our house I can hear the train whistle as it passes the crossing downtown – two long blasts, one short and another long. I love the chimes of my clock. I enjoy listening to my audio books. I check my text messages with Siri on my phone. Did you know that I have programmed Siri on my phone so that he speaks with an Australian accent? I miss some of these familiar sounds when Lyle and I are away from home.
Now I don’t think that I can hear any better simply because I can’t see. It’s not that my hearing has suddenly improved to compensate for my vision loss. I don’t believe that is the case. Instead, I think that I have become more attentive to the sounds around me. Possibly it is just that I have learned to listen to what I hear.
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