DeafAmanda

Tag: Connection

  • Over the Armrest

    Over the Armrest

    As I was thinking about what to write next, one memory came back to me. It made me smile because I still remember it so clearly.

    It happened during one of my flights. I’ve always been weirdly comfortable traveling alone. There’s something freeing about navigating airports, finding my gate, and making my way from one place to another by myself.

    Because I’m Deaf, I was able to board a little earlier than everyone else. It gave me a chance to settle in before the rest of the passengers arrived. I grabbed everything I thought I’d need during the flight from my bag underneath the seat and tucked it into the seat-back pocket. That way, I wouldn’t have to keep reaching underneath my seat throughout the flight.

    A few minutes later, a couple boarded with their beautiful baby, and the father took the seat next to me. Before takeoff, I let him know there might be some turbulence and to be careful so the baby wouldn’t go flying out of their arms. That’s just my motherly instinct kicking in.

    After we took off, I reached into the seat-back pocket and pulled out a word search book I had picked up back in 2023. Since my phone wouldn’t be working and there weren’t any entertainment screens attached to the seats, I came prepared. Then again, growing up as an ’80s kid, I learned how to entertain myself. If my sisters didn’t want to play and I wasn’t interested in watching television, I always found something to do.

    I opened my word search book and started hunting for words, checking them off as I found them. Before I knew it, the father pointed out one I had completely missed. I smiled and circled it. I could tell he was a little nervous about pointing it out, and honestly, I wasn’t expecting anyone to help. To be even more honest, I had no idea he had been looking at my puzzle in the first place.

    After helping me find a few more words, I noticed he seemed to relax. He started enjoying himself, going back and forth between helping me with the puzzle and helping the baby’s mother whenever she needed him.

    I found myself enjoying his help more than I expected. It was the first time anyone had looked over and simply joined in. He already knew I was Deaf because I always tell the people sitting next to me at the beginning of a flight. I don’t want anyone to think I’m ignoring them or mistake my silence for being rude. Once or twice, he’d gently tap my shoulder to let me know the flight attendant was trying to get my attention.

    I appreciated that more than he probably realized. A gentle tap on the shoulder is a respectful way to get a Deaf person’s attention. Communication doesn’t always happen through spoken words. Sometimes it’s writing, texting, gestures, or simply facing the person while speaking at a normal pace. Every Deaf or hard of hearing person communicates differently, so the best thing you can do is be patient and find the method that works best for both of you.

    We flew through quite a few pages together. There was one puzzle where I found a word he had been searching for, and he immediately let me know, “I was trying to find that!” I couldn’t help but laugh. Then there was another word that completely stumped both of us. We searched around and around that puzzle for what felt like five or ten minutes before one of us finally spotted it. We both chuckled when we finally found it. It felt like a little victory.

    At one point during the flight, my back started bothering me, so I shifted around in my seat, trying to get comfortable. When I went back to the puzzle, he even helped hold the book steady while we searched for more words. We just kept checking them off, one after another.

    As we started getting ready to land, I began feeling the familiar pressure building in my ears. I reached for the gum I had tucked into the seat-back pocket before takeoff. Chewing gum has always helped me during takeoff and landing, a little tip my ex shared with me years ago that has almost always worked. This time, though, it wasn’t doing its job. I rubbed my ears, hoping the pressure would ease, but nothing seemed to work.

    Once we landed, we stayed seated while everyone waited to get off the plane. While we were still sitting there, the father typed a message on his phone thanking me. He told me he had a really good time helping with the word search and that it made the flight pass quickly. We talked for another minute before everyone stood up. He gathered his family, and I stayed behind to grab my luggage.

    A little later, after I got into the terminal, I saw him again. He was standing with the baby near the restroom while, I’m assuming, the baby’s mother was inside. As I walked by, I smiled and waved.

    Then I turned my head, looked straight ahead, grabbed my suitcase, and my walking speed immediately picked up. The wheels rattled loudly across the floor as I wove through the crowd. I didn’t care how loud my suitcase was. I made my way through the sea of people until I finally reached the lobby, where I found a place to wait and called my Uber.

    Even though I had flown before 2021, I noticed something about myself. Whenever I’m traveling with someone else, I naturally slow my pace to match theirs. There were a few times in 2023, and again this year in 2026, when I found myself absolutely zooming through the airport. I honestly don’t know why I do that.

    I do know that in 2026, I was heading home to my children.

    Even though they’re adults now, they’ll always be my babies.

    To the dad who shared a word search with me, thank you. I don’t know your name, and maybe I never will. That’s okay.

    I’ll always remember the stranger who shared a word search with me while we flew somewhere above the clouds. It was one of the most enjoyable plane rides I’ve ever had.

    I hope life has been kind to you and your family.

  • Pier Dream …

    Pier Dream …

    I laid my head on the pillow as I tries to close my eyes. I pulled the blankets up to my shoulder and curled up because I was shivering a little bit. A vision appeared as if I was watching a movie and/or as if I was in it …

    . . .

    I sit at the pier in the dark, facing north, my feet dipping into the water. Dressed in a random T-shirt and rolled-up jeans to keep them dry, I take in the stillness of the night. Behind me, someone sits on the west side of the pier, silent, fishing, unwilling to talk.

    I watch the gentle sway of the trees and the mesmerizing ripples on the water as the sun sets, casting a calming glow. Swans, ducks, frogs, and crickets blend their sounds into the evening chorus, while fish swim happily beneath the surface. A deep sense of peace washes over me.

    I begin to ramble. Turning around, I see the person behind me—holding onto a quiet pain, unspoken yet heavy. They continue fishing, their focus unwavering. As I take in their breathtaking features, I notice something missing. The spark I once saw in them has faded.

    I spoke softly, my voice trembling. “All the blue chemical fire can come after me—all the painful words that have been spoken about how ugly I am.” My voice cracked. Emotion welled up, exposing the depth of my pain. I struck a match, and it flared to life with a vivid blue flame. It clung to the stick, dancing hypnotically. “They can tell me I have a big nose or eyes that look too Chinese. They can say I’ll never achieve my dream job. That I’ll never thrive as a Deaf person. All the hate lingers in the air—because that’s the air we breathe—and this blue fire burns everywhere around us.”

    I dipped my hand into the lake, then lifted it, extending a silent gesture—one of longing, of waiting for someone to take my hand. But no one did. Water dripped onto the pier below.

    I continued speaking softly. “That blue fire.” I paused for only a moment before continuing. “It stops with me.” Steadying my voice, I found strength in my words. “I won’t spread more of that blue fire. All the hatred that pierced into me—some like sharp knives slicing deep, others like dull blades leaving aching wounds, the blood of their cruelty oozing from within. The punches that landed against my body, the screams that rang in my ears, the hateful words spat directly in my face—it all stops with me.” I turned to the flickering blue flame and blew. The fire went out.

    Standing up, I looked at the person who hadn’t moved an inch. I reached for their hand, drawing their attention. They reeled in their fishing line and set it down gently, their expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. Without a word, I pulled them behind me, leading them to the edge of the pier where sand met wood.

    Letting go, I crouched down, picking up two stones and some tinder, attempting to spark a fire. The person behind me shifted to my right, watching intently yet still lost in confusion. I switched to rubbing two sticks together, growing frustrated as nothing ignited. Sensing my struggle, they bent down, ready to help—but I caught their hand and shook my head. No.

    I looked into their beautiful, searching eyes. Slowly, I moved my hand from their arm to my chest. And from within me, I pulled out a fire—not blue this time, but red, dancing and alive in my palm. Their eyes widened in shock, confusion deepening at the impossibility of it. Without hesitation, I moved my hand toward their chest and tapped. The red fire disappeared into them.

    I whispered, “Sorry for the off-key.” Then, without warning, I sprang to my feet, ran to the edge of the pier, arms wide open, and shouted with every ounce of feeling I had left, “I am Titannnnniummmmm!” A burst of energy exploded beneath me, expanding like a bubble, enveloping both me and this beautiful soul. The wind roared, lifting my hair as it danced wildly around me.

    As I walked back, I saw them standing there—wearing a sweater, jeans, and a cap. Our eyes met. From a short distance away, I lifted my hands to the sky and shouted, “You’ve got fireworks! You have the dream—now run toward it! RUN!”

    . . .

    Back at the house, lying on my bed, I suddenly opened my eyes and whispered as if they were in the same room, as if they could hear me.

    “You are titanium.”

    My heart burst with belief, sending it their way.

    Thank you for taking the time to read my daydream story—one that appeared to me out of nowhere. I simply wanted to share it with you, my readers. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed bringing it to life.

    With love,

    SONGS: Madilyn Bailey “Titanium” ** Katy Perry “Fireworks”

    NOTE: I use chatgpt for grammar work to help me tell the story better. The vision / story is mine.