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People, by nature, have some interesting things to say. Here are some of my things. Some about acting. All about living ...

Saturday, January 14, 2006

I took my dog to another specialist today, and I saw something I can't get out of my head. It was so startling and representative and important, I've gpt to put it in a film of mine someday.

There was this young mom and dad, and their 4-year-old, little blond daughter. As I walked in, the three were evidently just walking out of an exam room where they'd lost the family dog.

Mom and Dad were emotional. Their eyes were red and puffy, and they were obviously trying not to break down.

In both hands, the little girl was holding the dog's collar with its ID and rabies tags hanging limply, and it was weird, but the jingling of the metal sounded ... sad.

The little girl was stone faced. No emotion whatsoever. Her parents were obviously trying to keep from sobbing, and their was no emotion from this girl, other than maybe a little bit of confusion and irritation.

I realized the little girl was deaf. The parents were signing to her, trying to explain what was happening, and weren't getting through. It was as if (thankfully), they hadn't had to communicate concepts like "death", and "never coming home."

The family walked out of the clinic's doors, with the little girl trailing behind.

As she stepped off the curb, she dropped the collar. I had this roaring in my ears and then no sound whatsoever, as I watched the collar drop, and it seemed to take forever. It hit the ground, and the metal tags bounced, flashing light that stung my eyes, and the little girl stared, not moving.

Then it was like time started again, and everything that had just happened hit the little girl, and she broke down, fell down, clutched the collar.

Her parents were there, but I wanted to run out of those doors and scoop her up and tell her I'm sorry the world is such a broken place and I'm sorry he's never coming home.

I feel like that little girl.

And I don't want to drop the collar.

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