My Morning Meal

I was given a prompt awhile back, and was told to write something from the POV of a famous person, so I thought it would be fun to write as if I was Helen Keller. This is what I came up with.

I was not always blind and deaf. I was ill as a young child, no more than 2 years old - but that is still at least 730 days of memory where I had all of my senses. I don't remember which color was which, or even what color is - but I remember sunlight, and the warmth my body was filled with whenever my mother carried me outside.

Sound was tricky for me, as well. I couldn't remember music or words, but I could remember clearly what the sound of mother's heartbeat sounded like, drumming rhythmically whenever she laid my head against her chest, her sweet strawberry perfume consuming my senses. I could also remember her voice, or at least the vibrations they made when she would sing or hum to me as I fell asleep, cradled in her arms.

As an adult, with my mother long passed, I know I will never have those moments again, but I am reminded of them every morning when I sit down to eat breakfast. I feel the same warmth I would get from the sun whenever I ate hot, scrambled eggs - the warmth will completely fill me, starting from my mouth and dribbling down my throat, into my chest, and stretching through my limbs.

I feel the same vibrations I experienced as a child when I enjoy a delicious stack of pancakes with strawberries on top that smell just like her perfume - the flavor makes me so happy that I find myself humming a happy little tune, similar to the one my mother sang when she held me and made me familiar with her beautiful, sweet scent.

I may not have all my senses, but that does not mean I can't experience them while using the other senses that I still have, such as touch, scent, and flavor.