Celebrations
“Something blue is where the story both begins and ends.”
Silent words. Silent stories yearning to escape. Silent tears and silent celebrations. These pages are the place for stories.Tonight, let us all remember the celebrations.
My phone holds thousands of celebrations through my unorganized collection of smiles, karaoke nights, cat photos (I’m a cat dad), family we celebrate in memory, and family we catch in unexpected moments of silliness and happiness in the present day.
My phone holds “Speech Assistant,“ a Text to Speech Augmentative/Alternative Communication (AAC) app on my homescreen as well, which I have used time and again to speak for myself in times of celebration when the words in my heart would not make their way into the world.
For those not familiar with alternative methods of communication, I became acquainted with AAC devices when I worked with students with special needs. Sometimes these devices, low or high-tech, act as the voice for a person who cannot communicate verbally; they also supplement verbal communication for those of us who need help being understood. I have included a link from my writing portfolio that explains a bit about my experience with AAC as a special needs educator. Blue! is the title of the story.
On this mild 76 degree Chicago evening as the sky transitions through shades of blue, I make a list of celebrations in my story. There are nights for impenetrable darkness, but tonight, the moon shines brightly through my window, illuminating moments I never anticipated; moments to be celebrated.
Celebrations
-Never did I picture my mom taking care of me again through this. I celebrate being able to say “hey ma!”
-Never did I imagine needing an AAC device myself. I celebrate technology.
-Never did I imagine I would regain speech again. I celebrate Patricia, my Speech-Language Pathologist. Can you imagine giving someone their voice back? I celebrate her skills.
-Never did I imagine I would lose speech again. Last summer, I was back in the thick of silence teaching a drama class. I celebrate Lily, my co-teacher, for asking if she could give me a hug as I cried after class. I tapped out: i never thought i would need this again. I am sad. I celebrate her compassion.
-Never did I imagine my voice would return so quickly this time. I celebrate my voice tonight.
-Never did I imagine I would make new friends when old ones moved on. I attended a Meet-Up group function to have dinner. I celebrate a few hours of courage and independence.
-Never did I imagine I would have my own class again. I celebrate that I have the ability to speak my dark blue sorrow in leaving teaching. I celebrate the second act.
-Never did I imagine I would walk again through each cycle of this illness and be okay with letting go of the need to know what happens next. I celebrate my physical therapist, Erin, and so others that remained positive that I still had life to live in new ways.
-Never did I imagine walking into my niece’s new home this past weekend with my phone to take pictures of her engagement party. I celebrate her. I celebrate being her Uncle Jon.
-Never did I imagine my teenage nephew would silently keep watch over me through everything. I celebrate his compassion and watchful eye as he quietly grabbed me before I could fall as I toppled over this weekend.
My story is filled with beginnings, endings, silence and speech, and countless seasons in between. My story does not only belong to me–it belongs to all the people I write about and write for, including you.
A day of celebrating freedom in Chicago with lunch this summer.
