The latest of a series of bad storms roars overhead. Even I, a
DeafBlind woman, can hear the rain pounding on the rooftop. I
both hear and feel each crack of thunder. The tension is thick,
as we wait to find out if this storm will turn into another
The apartment is sweltering with all the windows shut. Sweat
trickles down the side of my face. My throat is sore, and I can't
stop coughing. I wish I still had some Dr. Pepper left in the can
on the side table.
Maybe screaming and whopping wasn't the best idea. I scared the
heck out of my poor son. But who can blame me? I had just
received the email of my dreams.
I'm in a state of giddy shock and joy. I read the email over and
over again and giggle like a middle school girl who just found
out the cute boy likes her back.
I am writing to let you know that we are going to accept you
into the Ashland University MFA Program for this summer.
I'm in! I'm in! It is going to happen... I'm going to grad
More thunder booms overhead, and I'm laughing. Not even mother
nature can knock me off this high. As if she knows it, the storm
settles down. The rain stops. The house is suddenly silent...
until I start whooping again.
"Mom, will you please stop that?"
"Sorry, honey, I don't think I can."
Angela C. Orlando
"Storm of Dreams"
May 14th, 2014
contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org.