Page 16 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper
She wasn’t even going to get a foot massage tonight.
Mary and Bonnie
Mary didn’t like the way the world sounded anymore. Before, she’d been able to hear the birds chattering in Central Park, and the kids shouting as they zipped down the paths on their bikes. But now, as she walked through the park with her sister, Bonnie—both of them going slowly because their eighty-plus-year-old knees weren’t as resilient as they used to be—Mary only picked up sounds as if they were underwater. Everything was distorted and muted. She hated getting old and losing her hearing.
“What?” she said, because Bonnie was pointing at something farther down the tree-lined promenade and she’d turned away from Mary while she was talking. “I can’t understand you if you’re not facing me!”
“I’m sorry,” Bonnie said with a gentle squeeze of Mary’s hand. “I was saying: Isn’t it lovely, these summer strolls together?”
Mary pursed her lips and didn’t respond. It wasn’t fair that Bonnie was five years older but could still see tiny birds’ nests in the trees and hear the tinkling of the ice cream cart’s bell. Bonnie could still eat spicy food and not suffer heartburn for hours after, and she even slept through the night and didn’t have to resort to midmorning and midafternoon naps to keep herself going.
Above them, the elm trees Mary used to love rustled in the wind, but all she could think when she saw the leaves moving was that she couldn’thearthe rustling anymore. And she certainly didn’t hear the skateboarding hooligan approaching until he’d whooshed by them, cackling at some recent mischief and throwing a handful of yellow paper in the air.
The wind scattered most of them away, but one smacked into Mary’s chest, then fell down and landed right on top of her faded red fanny pack. It was an origami flower.
“Oh, dear,” Bonnie said.
“What is this?” Mary picked up the paper rose.
Bonnie shook her fist at the disappearing skateboarder. Then she turned back to Mary. “That miscreant stole all those flowers from that sweet young woman sitting on that bench! She was minding her own business when, right before my eyes, that boy zoomed past her and snatched up a bunch of her hard work. And for what purpose? Just to sow trouble!”
Well, Mary hadn’t seen any of that happen, but that’s because she couldn’t see that far anymore without her glasses. She retrieved them from her fanny pack to have a look at the woman her sister was talking about.
Oh. What a sweet thing indeed, long dark hair and colorful skirt, a box of yellow paper and a basket of origami flowers beside her.
“What do you think she’s making them for?” Mary asked.
“I don’t know,” Bonnie said, “but I suppose we ought to at least return the one that you managed to catch.”
Together, they shuffled toward the woman, who smiled calmly at them as they approached, apparently unperturbed by the skateboarding delinquent.
“Hello,” Bonnie said. “We saw that awful theft that just happened, and we wanted to say how sorry we were. And we also wanted to return the paper rose that we found.”
The woman smiled brighter and shook her head. “No need to return it. If you found it, it must be yours.”
Mary frowned. Maybe she wasn’t hearing her right, because what she was saying didn’t really make sense. “What?”
“There’s a note inside the flower,” the woman said. “It must’ve found its way to you for a reason.”
Bonnie’s eyes sparkled. “Go on, then, Mary. Open it! Let’s see.”
Mary grumbled. She probably wouldn’t even be able to read the tiny font.
But when she tugged on one of the petals and the paper rose unfurled, the message inside was handwritten, big and bold. As if it had known she’d need it that way.
There is serenity in the silence. A quiet life can be a powerful one.
Her eyes flew up to the young woman. Did she know that Mary’s hearing was fading? But how could she? She was a stranger.
There is serenity in the silence.
A tear trickled down Mary’s cheek.
For the past year, as her world grew quieter and quieter, Mary had focused only on what she was losing. She lamented every sound she could no longer hear. Everything she must be missing out on.
But she hadn’t ever thought about what she might be gaining. A quieter life. One where the din of her surroundings could no longer barge in on her uninvited.
She could sit more peacefully with her thoughts. She could spend more time reading, undistracted. Heck, maybe she could even finally learn how to meditate.
