The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, But in having new eyes
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Betrayal

- Christine J. Seymour

You came into my life just as you would come into any other life. You filled my childhood days with wonder. My eyes were wide with questioning, then joy, at each sound that filled my world.

The singing of birds, the rusting of leaves as the birds flitted from branch to branch, bringing twigs and leaves to build their nest. The laughter of the children at play in the school yard that I could see from the front of our house. More than once I followed that gay sound only to have someone call my mother to come take me home. There was the sound of dogs barking at night that either kept me awake or turned my dreams into nightmares of attacking wolves causing me to scream out - and find myself calmed by my mother's soothing voice. The powerful sound of cars and planes. The harmonic whistle of the hurtling trains. Machines that roared, kittens that purred-all wondrous sounds that painted pictures before I would look to see. The roar of the river crashing down the mountain side, over and around great boulders, would cut off all other sound of human presence. And then, I would sing, and the river would quiet and the light soprano voice was all I would hear-What joy to hear the purity of tone take words of love and sadness out across the water and to know that voice was mine.

That voice comforted me throughout the years-singing to me of joy and heartache, of love yet to come and love already lost. I heard in my own voice great hope-a future of sharing my passion for life-through song-with others. Just when I was at the pinnacle of making my dream come true you began to slip away...they said "You cannot teach what you cannot hear." NO!" I cried "NO! I CAN hear! It's just words? just words? I just have some? trouble? with? words?" The sobs were so loud they reverberated off the walls. My heart pounded as if to escape my chest and the pain within. My skin sweated it's own tears, and my eyes burned in my wet face- "HEAR ME SING!"

You came into my life and you gave me great joy, then you abandoned me. I didn't do anything to you, I did not abuse you. I did not try to control you or change you into something you were not. Perhaps I took you for granted, assuming you would never leave. But I nurtured you constantly, sharing with you things from my heart greatest sorrows. And still you left. I shared with you my most intimate feelings-the sweet words of a lover, the soft moans and passionate cries. The sound of a child coming into the world, his cries, his laughter, the bedtime stories and afternoon songs. The sweet lullabies that helped him drift off to sleep.

The more distant you became the more frightened I was. I drank with you and words lost their meaning. But there was not enough drink to bring you back, Lord knows I tried. I begged you to stay, I fought and denied. Then said I didn't care-Oh I cared! But you couldn't hurt me if I said I didn't care. I smiled at my companions and said "Look at me, He left me and I'm fine!" Fine! What is Fine? Fine is a cloak beneath which is buried all the anger, frustration and guilt that I am not all that I am expected to be- Yeah! I'm Fine! People smile, they tell me I'm amazing-then they walk away...that's what I am? Amazing...HA!

I took my voice back to the riverside, to the ocean shore where it could still quiet natures roar with it's graceful, piercing sweetness...But always tears...the sound was lost...

But don't think for a moment that I will allow your betrayal to be complete. You cannot take from me what you have already given. When I see a crying child, I know that sound. When I watch children at play, shouting and laughing, I know that sound. When I watch a face singing, I know that sound. You have taken nothing away from me, you have just stopped giving. I know the ocean roars as the sparkling creek sings, birds chirping, lawnmowers mowing, falling rain and silent fog, these sounds don't change because my ears stop receiving them. And what of music? Who among us has not reached a point in our lives when a certain era of music becomes our favorite, the songs we identify with, while music continues to constantly change? You gave me my musical past before you stopped giving.

NO you have taken nothing from me...today my eyes tell me what sounds are happening and my heart tells me how I feel. Perhaps communication has been made difficult by your betrayal-but would I trade my eyes, my heart, my soul to hear again...Never.

I only pray that what you have stopped giving me is now being given to someone else who needs it more than I. Perhaps a child who is born today is getting the chance to hear his world. Or someone older is receiving a gift and hearing the miracle that I have already experienced. These are the thoughts that give me the strength to say thanks for the miracle, while it lasted...

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