Toast
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My teeth remained wired until the seventh of April and the splint came off a week before that. It was beautifully liberating and I kept trying to get into conversations with perfect strangers so I could practice saying words again, to enjoy the consonants and the vowels and the feel of my tongue finally freed from behind my teeth. “I feel unusually alive and quite extraordinarily extravagant and excitable,” my mouth repeated.
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The Toastmaster’s booklet on the speaking voice ends with this paragraph:
“Your best voice can help bring out your best self. Nature has given you a priceless gift in your voice. It is the means by which you can communicate with others – the medium of your message. It also makes possible understanding and camaraderie. Take advantage of this opportunity – because by your voice and your words, you influence others.”
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Now it’s almost May and I’m still getting e-mails and the Toastmasters’ magazine from the group.  Sometimes, I think I could have delivered that intense speech, but at a different time, with more practice.
What I plan to do one of these days, when I’m sitting in my apartment, is check on the status of that beige plastic bag. I’ll study how it shimmies and shifts in the tree and write something I can be proud of. Then at some point, I’ll walk to a café or maybe just a local group of writers and read to people. I’ll clear my throat, inhale, place my hands on the podium (there’s always a podium in these musings), struggle at the start and become more comfortable as I read. But I’ll always begin with the same thirteen words. “You have to listen to this – I think I may have something here.”