American library books ยป Fiction ยป Leap of Faith by Cassidy Shay (the giving tree read aloud .txt) ๐Ÿ“•

Read book online ยซLeap of Faith by Cassidy Shay (the giving tree read aloud .txt) ๐Ÿ“•ยป.   Author   -   Cassidy Shay



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my favorite. But I love the little things. The sprinklers. The clock ticking. My sister played soft ball this summer, and whenever I went to her games I loved the solid thud of the ball landing in someone's glove. It's the little things that I had forgotten about. When you can't hear for so long, you still imagine what people's voices sound like, because you watch people communicate every day. You see people clap along or dance to music, and you feel the beat, and you wonder what kind of instruments are being played, what the lyrics are, what the voice sounds like. There are lots of sounds that you are constantly reminded of. But the little things, you stop imagining, stop trying to remember. They're the sounds that usually get pushed to the back ground, that people don't even notice anymore. But I notice them now, and I love them. It's a sign that life is happening, even if it's the sound of automatic sprinklers going off in the middle of the night." 

She shakes her head at me. "You're right, I will make fun of you for that. But not right now." She looks at her watch. "We have enough time for the few questions I have left, but not for teasing. You get off easy this time." She looks at her notebook. "What's your favorite song? Your favorite genre of music?"

"I don't think I have a favorite song. There are so many, and I have ten yearsโ€™ worth of silence to cover. I've been listening to new songs, but also all the hits that I missed out on. Things like Hannah Montana and Justin Bieber. Some of the stuff almost makes me glad I couldn't hear when it was popular." She laughs. "But I like country, for the most part. I like some rock, and some... pop, I guess. And, of course, I've been listening to Christian music. Praise and worship songs and Christian rock." 

"Alright," she says. "Just a couple more questions. We're gonna go back to Mikey. Is that okay?"

I nod and smile. "Of course it is."

"So obviously you and Mikey aren't meant to be together. He's for sure becoming a priest, right?" I nod. "So why do you think all of this happened, if you're not supposed to end up together?"

I sigh. I've thought about this question countless times. "Well, Mikey and I are still best friends. We still see each other regularly, I still go to church with him a lot, and we talk on the phone all the time. I still care about him so much, and I still love him, Just not really in the same way I did last spring. As I said earlier, I was completely lost without Mikey. And it wasn't having him as my boyfriend that helped me find direction. It was Mikey's friendship, his support, watching him be. That's what drew me to him, to God. Mikey and I might not be 'meant to be' as a perfect couple. And we weren't a perfect couple. But I know that we were meant to be friends. Mikey will always be one of my best friends. He is so important to me, and I can't imagine my life without him."

"So you're okay with the fact that he broke up with you like that?"

I smile. "Well, I choose to look at it like this. He knew that we weren't going to be together, and the only thing that he could think of that was better than me was God. I think that says pretty wonderful things about the kind of girlfriend that I was." I do another dramatic hair flip, and we laugh. "But seriously, I'm okay with it. I still don't understand it completely. Of course there's still a small part of me that wants him to knock it off and come back to me, figure out that he can't live without me, and all that stuff. But he's happy. He's truly happy, and that's all that I can ask for at this point. I can see that he's made the right decision."

She nods. "I'm glad that you've reached that point." She looks at her notebook. "Okay, one more question. Do you think you'll become Catholic?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure. I mean, it's only been a year since I even went to mass for the first time, and even shorter since I started learning about what kinds of things they stand for. It's a big decision. It's definitely a possibility. Going to mass is a beautiful experience. But I need to take more time to figure out what I believe before I commit myself to any specific religion. But I do know one thing, and that is that God exists. And he loves me. And right now, that's all I need to know. I can figure the rest out later."

 

On my way home, I stop at the park. I sit on the swing set, and start pumping my legs. I go up, higher, higher. 

I think about my dad. The wedding is in a couple months, but I still haven't fully forgiven him for everything. I need to let that all go.

I think about Mikey. I still don't understand everything. I still hurt over what happened. I need to let go of the idea of "us." I need to let go of the Mikey that I fell in love with. Because he's not that guy anymore. He's so much more than that. I need to let go of the pain, the heartache, the hoping. 

I think about my hearing. Every second of every day, I wonder when I'm going to stop hearing again. I wonder what sound of going to be my last. But I need to just relax, appreciate every sound that I do get to hear. I need to let go of my fear of silence. 

I think about the car accident, and how Iโ€™ve always let it define me. Not just because of my hearing. I let it change the way that I thought of myself. I was the deaf girl with the dead aunt, instead of the girl who happened to be deaf and have a dead aunt.

I think about my fears of the world. How I'm terrified that one morning I'll wake up and find all the reporters on my lawn again, invading my privacy, twisting my story into something that they deem interesting enough to sell. I need to let go of this. 

I need to let go of my past. I need to let go of all the pain and all the fears. I have my whole life ahead of me, and itโ€™s about time I start living it.

I'm up as far as the swing will let me go. My hands grip the chains so tightly that my knuckles are white. I close my eyes, allow the air to pass over me. When I open my eyes again, I look at the grass below me. 

It can't be that bad. Can it?

I pump my legs a couple more times, take a few deep breaths. 

Then, as I come forward again, I push off from the swing. 

Finally, I let go.

 

 

Imprint

Text: Cassie Hoene
Publication Date: 10-28-2012

All Rights Reserved

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