The Lost Final Chapter of Helen Keller’s Biography
Helen Keller — the girl born deaf, dumb, and blind — is now a wise, old woman at the end of an incredibly accomplished life. She spends her final years going to the park. For most excursions, she insists on managing on her own somehow. But at the park the birds target Helen in particular thinking she is a statue they can perch on and defecate all over, so she requires two nurses — one for seeing and one for hearing.
Helen enjoys the calm breeze. Any day now she may take her last breath, her soul belonging to the ages. The first nurse picks up her hand, checks for a pulse, and then signs a message into her soft palm:
“Dearest Helen, the day is beautiful indeed. A man on a blue bicycle rode by us. A brown doggie is chasing a squirrel. Also, could you kindly ask your hearing nurse to maybe make room for my leg on this red park bench we all sit upon. Good tidings, Petunia.”
The second nurse receives this message. She chuckles, signing a response into Helen’s other delicate palm.
“Delightful Helen,
The ducks in the pond go splish, splash and quack, quack. The birds screech and circle overhead, far from your shoulders. And could you perhaps tell your seeing nurse to warmly back off and to realize that her leg has plenty of space. Lovingly, Gertrude.”
