A Sense For a Sense

If I were to give up one sense, I’d give up smell.

I don’t wear perfume often, though I would miss it. I’d also miss the one Mum usually wears, she’s been wearing it as long as I can remember and it’s something I associate with her. Not having the sense of smell would also mean I’d miss out the scent of rubbish-collecting days and I wouldn’t notice the bus fumes.

I couldn’t give up taste: I like food. The idea of bland, flavourless sushi makes me want to cry. Imagining another bagel that has no flavour no matter what I put on it… No, that’s definitely not for me.

Nor could I give up touch: I think it’d be very awkward to never know what something feels like. If I have my hands full, I rely on touch to find things in my bag. Just knowing if numbers are raised or the plastic is wearing away tells me if I’ve got my bus pass or student ID.

Hearing, I’m keeping: I rely on music for entertainment, because apparently you’re not supposed to read and walk at the same time. Weird, but I guess it makes sense.

As for my super-heightened sense, I’d like it to be sight. I have poor eyesight, I wear glasses all the time because I don’t like contacts, and my optometrist tells me my left eye has got a bit more shortsighted over the past few years. I already have excellent hearing – seriously, I can hear a clock ticking from the other end of the house. So super sight would save me the glasses and the visits to an optometrist.

And as a happy bonus, I can read and write all I want.


3 thoughts on “A Sense For a Sense”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s