Thursday morning came slowly.
I finished my work early and drove to Springfield.
Dad was already waiting outside his house.
He had put on a clean shirt and carried the small notebook he used for appointments.
When he got into the car, he asked whether we had enough time.
I told him we did.
He smiled.
The drive was familiar.
We passed the gas station near the highway and the little grocery store where Dad used to buy coffee after work.
He pointed toward an old building.
He told me he remembered when it had been a hardware store.
I repeated his words because he couldn't hear himself properly without the devices.
He laughed at that.
It was a small moment.
But I missed hearing him laugh without having to work so hard to understand him.
At the audiologist's office, the receptionist recognized us.
She greeted Dad and checked his appointment.
We sat in the waiting area.
There was a small television mounted in the corner.
Dad watched the moving pictures but couldn't follow the conversation coming from it.
He looked at the screen for a while.
Then he looked down at his hands.
I wondered how many little things he had been missing during those days.
A phone ringing.
A bird outside.
Someone speaking from the next room.
The audiologist called his name.
We followed her into the fitting room.
She brought out the new devices and explained the controls.
Dad listened carefully to the instructions as best he could.
She helped place them behind his ears.
Then she adjusted the settings.
"Can you hear me?"
Dad looked at her.
He nodded.
She spoke again at a normal volume.
He smiled.
The audiologist continued making small adjustments.
She asked him to repeat a few words.
He did.
Then she spoke from a little farther away.
He turned toward her voice.
I watched his face.
It was the first time in days that I had seen him look relaxed during a conversation.
The appointment took a while.
There were instructions about cleaning, storage, charging, and keeping the devices dry.
I listened carefully.
Dad asked questions.
He wanted to know how to protect them.
The audiologist explained that they were designed for daily use, but he still needed to avoid exposing them to water.
Dad nodded several times.
He was determined not to make the same mistake twice.
When everything was finished, we received the paperwork.
The total had been $4,300.
I paid the amount we had agreed on.
Dad watched me put the receipt away.
He didn't argue this time.
But I could see that he still felt uncomfortable.
Outside, the air was cool.
We walked toward the parking lot.
Dad stopped beside the car.
He looked around.
Then he turned his head slightly.
A bird was calling somewhere above us.
He listened.
His expression changed.
"What kind of bird is that?"
I stopped walking.
I followed his eyes toward the trees.
There was a mockingbird perched somewhere among the branches.
It moved from one call to another, making sounds that seemed to belong to several different birds.
I told Dad what it was.
He listened again.
Then he smiled.
"That's quite a voice."
I laughed.
He stood there for another minute.
He wasn't in a hurry to get into the car.
He just wanted to listen.
I watched him looking upward.
His hands were resting at his sides.
The sunlight came through the branches and fell across his shirt.
I suddenly felt my throat tighten.
I looked down at the pavement.
I didn't want him to see me crying.
It wasn't sadness exactly.
It was relief mixed with something I couldn't quite explain.
The sound of that bird had become important to me.
Not because it was unusual.
Because Dad could hear it.
We drove home slowly.
He kept noticing sounds.
The turn signal.
A truck passing on the road.
A dog barking behind a fence.
At one point, he laughed because he could hear the tires making a low sound on the pavement.
I had never thought those ordinary noises were worth celebrating.
That day, they were.
When I dropped him off, he thanked me again.
I told him to stop thanking me.
He smiled.
"I'll try."
I waited until he was safely inside before driving away.
At home, Josh asked how the fitting had gone.
I told him about the mockingbird.
He smiled.
"That's good."
I sat down beside him and showed him the receipt.
The amount was exactly what we had expected.
The money was gone.
The cruise savings had become something else.
Josh looked at the paper.
Then he placed it on the table.
"We did the right thing."
I nodded.
I believed that.
But I also knew the conversation with Cindy was still waiting.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The Weekend Came, and My Husband Prepared to Tell His Mother Why Her Birthday Surprise Was No Longer Waiting
The Afternoon Everyone Watched My Father Fall Into the Water, and Nobody Knew What to Say
Part 6 of 20
