I love this so much. As someone who’s gone from being a “pretty girl with a limp” to a “fat woman in a wheelchair” among other similarities between us,(in that it’s very hard to see yourself as a whole person sometimes when you are ‘sparklebrain’ and other people delete your gender or your sexuality or any other part of you that makes you whole and beautiful) this was a moment where I thought of myself as ‘same’ and ‘different’ simultaneously. This is beautiful.
The day Prince died, I was walking to the audiologist office to pick out hearing aids, Purple Rain playing on my purple iPod, my lipstick-red walking cane tapping its drumbeat on the sidewalk, vibrating through my wrist bones to my elbow bones to my shoulders to my clavicles to my brain, telling me: I am whole. Without my cane, without that drumbeat, my brain gets confused: Where is my musical limb?
The cane makes music just for me. When I walk to the beat, I drum to the beat. Doesn’t matter about my hearing anymore. I am a walking musical instrument.
Except it does matter, because certain music saved my life. Certain music still saves my life.
Maybe I can hear Prince like I did when I was a kid, I thought. How much of his music am I missing? What frequency is his voice?
I wanted a purple hearing aid to match my pastel…
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