the-book-of-loveA more personal and introspective post this time around. For Mother’s Day, I thought it would be a touching gift to read a couple chapters of my new book to my mom over the phone (as my parents have retired to points south a few years ago).

Now, I’m sure that sounds all well and good, but you have to understand the significance of this gift to my mother. You see, she lost her sight about 20 years ago in an unfortunate twist of medical fate (as in malpractice) and I know how difficult it’s been for her to adapt to losing the sense most of us take for granted. Case in point: When her son finally released his first novel, after so many years of encouraging him to follow his dreams, she couldn’t just flip open the signed paperback I sent them to read. Like most things for the visually impaired, it was more complicated than that.

Technology to the rescue, so to speak. She uses a scanner, which page by snail-crawl page allows the user to laboriously import a single sheet into a computer application that would read it in the best Stephen Hawkins voice you can imagine. Yes, a true first-world miracle of our digital age, but still a far cry from the pleasures of kicking back with a thick tome in your hand and leafing through the pages as the flow of the story pulled you along with its current.

So, you can imagine her enjoyment as we curled up on opposite ends of the country and a telephone line so I could spend a couple hours reading to her. My voice reading my work to my mom. In my small way, I hope I brought a little light to the darkness she pushes back against every day she opens her eyes.