In my autobiography I wrote that being deaf and blind was like being trapped on a gray, silent island. Far off there was a distant land where people talked, laughed. But I was alone, only able to reach them by tossing out a long lifeline, so desperate to be among the living. I dressed up, learned to read and write, rode horses, learned Latin, French, and Greek, and was the first deaf-blind person ever to graduate from Radcliffe College, cum laude, at that. But the more I tried to be like everyone else, the more a frightening space opened up between me and the people I loved. It was always there, that chasm. So I followed Peter onto the porch, and when he slipped his warm hand into mine I was not alone—I was with a man who drew me into the world instead of keeping it at bay. I eagerly let Peter lead me away from the house, where Mother paced the dining room floor and Annie tossed in bed. “You didn’t tell me the Kellers celebrated Fourth of July late.” He leaned against a maple tree at the yard’s edge.
What do You think about Helen Keller In Love (2012)?
