My wife has been singing since I met her. She is a famous singer, and thanks to that we have travelled around Latin America on different occasions. Her public adores her, the press acclaims her and the movements on television always have her in their top ranking.
Me, I have never heard my wife sing, I have been deaf since I was seven years old. The only memories I have of the music did not fascinate me because they bring me back to the days of my upbringing where there were always people walking around my house, drinking a caramel-coloured liquid from plastic bottles. Negative memories.
Since I never heard my wife sing, I was always asked: "Hey, David, what do you like about Monica?
I have never known what to answer. I'm always overcome with fear and avoid the question, which is easy in sign language. I think I fell in love with Monica because she is her. Everyone is so abstracted by her voice and her presence that they could never be intimate with a singer just because she is a person. I feel her heart beating, her breath on my cheeks on the hardest days, her lips kissing with the intensity with which her voice rests in my presence. Her eyes evoke in me the deep gaze of my mother, who as a child repeated to me: "I love you, I love you", until I could no longer hear her. But her voice is still engraved in me, it is the deepest tattoo in my soul. I loved with the deepest part of my heart the voice of her soul, and she the voice of my soul, I believe that our souls listen to each other when they connect, and in that metaphysical universe they talk about the most banal things that can fill the soul.
I love Monica, and she loves me. You don't have to be a singer, or a listener, to love another person. Her voice, the voice of her exterior, will continue to delight you with the beauty that I will never understand, and her voice, the voice of her soul, will teach me the steps to find her again whenever I get lost.
-Ken S.
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