Chapter 2 - Why was I like this?

I squeezed the warm edamame bean between my lips. Lightly salted, the beans were my favorite treat at this brewery. By squeezing the beans out of their shell, the combination of a warm salty crunch made edamame the best treat. Of course, Val called them "soybeans" at the brewery just to give them an easier title. She wasn't wrong using that name, since edamame beans are just whole, immature soybeans. Whatever the case, they were delicious.

A dribble of liquid squirted from my mouth and onto my chin. I was quick to wipe it away. I hated the idea that someone would try to help me unnecessarily. Val long understood that I was most sensitive when others treated me as a blind invalid. I admit that there are some things I may struggle with. Having a disability does mean that I lack ability. However, that does not mean I wish to be treated as a grown-up baby. I have lived alone for 7 years. Before that, I cared for my mother until she had to be moved to a caregiving home. I will ask when I need assistance, thank you very much!

My evening at the brewery was rather uneventful. I listened to some local story-telling and trends that were becoming popular. I tried to keep myself updated, although that was getting more difficult in recent years. I had a vague understanding of the peoples' addiction to short videos and social media, but it didn't really interest me. Why would they spend so much time on those fake things when real live humans are right here where they can hear, feel, smell, and…see. I do not feel bad for myself. My parents made sure I routed out those feelings a long time ago. I can still be envious, though. On a few occasions, I asked the few friends I trusted, like Val, to describe a sunset, mountains, and fields of flowers. I would try to imagine what such a thing would be like. Without a point of reference, I could only picture the shape and size, not the beauty and art that it must contain.

Why was I like this? I asked that question thousands of times, but never had a proper answer. "Sometimes, life sucks." Or, "consider it a blessing to still have a life". I never considered those answers fully, as I believed them mostly to be excuses. Excuses by those that had vision. Those that understood the masterful scenery of this world around them. A world where colors, shadows, sunrise, and sunset had formed each day of that person's life. None of that existed even in my mind's eye. My mind was as blind as my detached retinas. I would never see anything, but I could still experience many other joys in life. Other than my lack of vision, I was a healthy and functional individual. My favorite experiences came from the vast variety of sounds. Music with symphonies really moved my heart. Occasionally, I could be seen with a tear falling from my eye due to a touching melody. Other sounds like Val's kind voice would bring complete warmth into my heart. I did not want a world without such a precious sound. Upon arrival back at my family's empty house, I made my way to the bathroom to clean up. It was time to settle down for the night.

I was not a person that could sleep when his head hit the pillow. I would usually listen to gentle music at a low volume until I fell asleep. I called out to my smart home device and told it to play orchestra music for 30 minutes. I preferred to give it a timer so that the music would shut off on its own rather than wake up enough to tell it to stop.

Sure enough, amidst the melodic "da da da duuuum" in Symphony No. 5 in C minor by Beethoven, I drifted into sleep. My last thought was my imagining what life would have been like with the gift of sight.

Everything felt strangely different when I awoke. There was a strong smell of cedar wafting into my nostrils. I could hear wildlife including the sound of crickets and even coyotes or wolves in the distance. I was strangely annoyed by this change. I did not like change. I assumed that I must have forgotten to give a timer to my music the night before. However, the device was not responding to my voice. Feeling around, I noticed that my mattress was not nearly as comfortable as it should be. It felt like a wooden cot with a thin mat on top of it. Where was I?

Then my eyelids opened, and I let out a gasp.

"What?"