Growing up with a visual impairment has made my experiences and relationships with others, especially with my parents, different from most people. After I was born, my mother became a sort of translator between the physical world and I. Without any instructions on how to raise a child with low vision, that at the time was believed to be blind, she had the instinct to think that perhaps I needed the sense of touch to learn and better understand the world around me.

Therefore, when I was little, she would hold me in her arms or lay me down on her lap, and bring her face very close to mine. She would take my hands and gently have them touch her face. While she guided my hand, my tiny fingers would run across her lips and she would say “lips.” She would then repeat the same motions with other parts of her face.

I have also seen her do it with my younger brother who has a visual impairment too. She even did it with my little sister who has perfect vision. I believe that not only did it become a learning tool, but also an intimate bonding experience between our mother and us.

My visual impairment may be more often than not a grueling obstacle in my life, but my mother thought me to appreciate the inherent sensory attributes it gave me.