4th July

One of the things that I have been blessed with as a result of being deaf is a photographic memory. Now just as I said yesterday, lots of things in life have pros and cons but, in this instance, I find the former by far outweighs the latter.

So lets start with the shorter list of the two: the cons. Well, for a start, it makes me a bit rubbish at watching horror movies as I remember them forever. When I was about 12 I watched Carrie, Steven King’s horror movie with French subtitles with French Cousins one Christmas. The beginning of this movie was quite happy go lucky and I was lured into a false sense of security that might be a nice American teen flick.

Then came the pigs blood and SMASH, a teacher gets crushed by swinging beam in the gym and then BOOM a car blows up. Then, ARRRRGH a hand comes out of the ground. I can still see the expression on that teachers face when I close my eyes, and it isn’t pretty that’s for sure.

*gulp

Moving swiftly on to the pros: Well, I remember people, places and faces really well. I remember outfits people were wearing when I met them 15 years ago – for example – Best-Friend-From-School was wearing black leggings and a maroon Fruits of the Loom jumper when I first got to know her properly during activities week at the end of the summer term.

I am an elephant, albeit thinner and with smaller ears and softer skin, but I never forget. I remember my mother picking me up from school when I was 4 years old and only doing half days. She was wearing a blue shirt-dress with yellow piping and she took me to Bhs for lunch where I had sausages, beans and chips and jelly and cream for pudding. She stole my cream, which made me laugh and I can remember my legs swinging from the seat of the metal chair, blue bar shoes, red school dress. It could honestly be yesterday.

And that’s great, for today 10 years ago, on Independence Day 1998, I watched the two most independent people I have ever met marry each other. It was an amazing day – I remember French Aunt’s blue hat, London Aunt’s HUGE hat and the insane grin London Uncle had on his face all day. I even remember the ravioli with the red pepper sauce we had for starter, getting drunk on champagne with youngest French Cousin and a crazy lady getting up and singing halfway through dinner.

It was by far one of the best weddings I have ever been to and closing my eyes I am back there, in my pink silk dress and matching jacket, playing the flute in the church with Pa, reading the price tag on the bottom of London Aunt’s Manolos… and realising that shoes were very expensive in London.

And, while memories of today are somewhat bittersweet, I wouldn’t change having them for the world.