When a bomb exploded
A sudden explosion in our home left me wearing a hearing aid advice for life. I walk around absorbing half of the noise that’s produced in this world. I was a kid when this happened so it didn’t seemed like a big disaster, at least not when I was awake.
The bomb drops by in my dreams, killing a lot of the pleasant things people dream of. I had three surgeries to get back some normality in one of my five senses. It’s the least of my worries and my sight has been enhanced, I believe.
My mom used to say it could have been worse. I was saved by el niño de Atocha because she always prayed to him for me. She’s devoted like that. What I know is that I live in a more silent world. My family can turned up the music as high as they want, como si estuvieran en la disco, and it won’t affect me at all. I can walk around in the mall and I get to pick the clothes I want without the distraction of people talking, music, sales staff.
My right to hearing sounds and noises was taken from me during a war that I will never understand. I don’t feel hate against anyone in particular because I can’t hear properly but it’s impossible to forgive how much my mom has suffered because of what happened to me. The sudden and unexpected explosion shattered her and that’s something my ears will always remember.