Your voice, it’s stuck and being replayed in my head on an endless loop.
There once was a young girl (born with low vision) who would watch certain movies, over and over again until the tape wore out. People in her life grew weary, thinking her silly for such repetitions, when new movies with more excitement were constantly being released. She did this because, gradually over time, she could notice detail after detail in a scene, on the screen, with a growing sense of familiarity: 3 Men and a Baby/Little Lady or Son In Law for example.
That girl, wandering through the shelves of movies, with family or friends, in Blockbuster Video (now all but extinct along with that low vision, what vision she once had).
With the invention of iTunes, she now has a video store at her fingertips. She watches those movies again.
The late 80’s/early 90’s music, the sweet cooing of that baby, or scenes from an England so dreary. Or, down on the farm, not unlike the rural places she spent much of her youth.
Where did she get to, that young girl?
I’m her, still her, yet not nearly as young now. I watch again (for the two-hundredth time), searching for a little extra familiarity, this summer in particular. I no longer bother with the screen, but still my mind recalls scenes from movies from childhood anyway.
Buried, deep in my head somewhere, I still see. Why can’t I give you up, you images, what’s been familiar?
I recollect. a couple with their arms around each other and dancing close. The way a character wears their hair up/is dark brown or blonde. Even the hurt look in a face of a man who has just been slapped across it by a female love interest.
Did I ever see enough detail for that, to detect a look in a character’s face?
Today, in watching something that wasn’t a thing when I was young, I picture what the characters of Downton Abbey are doing in every scene, though I’ve never had the kind of vision, even low vision, to have seen them. So, then, where does it come from? It feels so real, as real as what I really could once see and of which now my brain recreates and can’t manage to let go of.
Now I watch, (3 Men and a Baby having come out when I was hardly more than a baby myself) and I hear voices and see scenes that are forever imprinted on my brain.
Tonight, the sound of your voice. I wonder if my memory of what you sound like will fade in thirty years time, if I never do hear it again.
Or if it will be forever imprinted on my eardrums, like those movie images from my low vision years that are replayed inside my head, even though sometimes I wish they weren’t.
Sometimes, I don’t know what’s real and true and what’s simply not either one of those. Like yourself or images seen with low vision, what was once here is now gone and I’m left with an endless echo chamber, or the visuals stuck on the repeat of it all.