Brantley took my cup and smiled “I want a drink."
His voice was so quiet and raspy.
After taking multiple sips from my drink, my entergetic boy rambled on. He told me how much he hated his speech device, he listed the names of people he wanted to visit and he told me he wanted to play t-ball. Man, I was thankful that I signed him up for Miracle League this spring.
I thought of how much of a chatter box he became, without notice.
And then I woke up. Smiling at hearing my sweet boys voice and sad that I don’t get to hear that voice everyday.
Dreams when Brantley talks don’t happen often, but they always shake me. It’s an internal struggle because while I’ve accepted that any form of communication is amazing, his little voice is my favorite sound on earth. It’s a sound I’ve heard very few times in his 8 years, mostly between the ages of 2 and 3. Now it is a sound I only hear in my dreams.
These dreams offer a glimpse into a world where Brantley's thoughts and feelings are clear, a world unknown to me but one I long to understand. Yet, upon waking, the bittersweet reality returns, with the silence of Brantley's innermost wishes echoing in my mind.
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