The little boy goes from family member to family member, (parent to sibling), but none are cooperating with his request to speak into the tape recorder. This is his ritual, as a way to capture memories for the record, through sound. He can’t see vacation photos in an album. Soon his sister won’t either.
This family is used to their littlest and his odd requests. Well, they might appear odd to some, but it’s just annoying, as the family is finished exploring tourist attractions for now and only wishes to veg in the hotel room. They don’t want to be interviewed, asked what they are doing, but the boy persists.
My brother has tapes and tapes of this sort, from all the years and all the trips we took, and my parents loved to take us on trips.
Now, this morning my cough is nearly gone, but still I’m recovering and it’s probably good my violin lesson did not happen, though I hope I will soon learn second line of “Twinkle Twinkle” before I forget the first.
So, the things I see this morning consist of nostalgia and past family memories, all caught on tape, now digitalized for future listening.
My brother and I don’t see. We hear.
Okay, so I make a little fun with the wording of this week’s sentence, only in that I don’t normally like to pick apart the word “see” as a term that the blind can not really use. I “use” it all the time actually, with no further thought.
I see/hear the fun we used to have as children, together. My brother and I proceed to laugh our asses off, for what feels like hours, while we wait for the coffee that will not make itself.
On the first day of the final year of my brother’s twenties we remember when he was eight and I was eleven. We listen to the tour of the hotel room he did, to understand his world, so he wouldn’t forget a single moment of the time we spent as a family on that summer getaway.
This week’s “The things I’ve seen this morning…” prompt is brought to you by: