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My mother was at the kitchen table.

Headphones on. Eyes closed. Coffee still hot.

My brother had sent her a link the night before with instructions to listen once in the morning, before anything else.

She did.

I was at the counter pretending to read the weather.

She took the headphones off and set them down gently, the way she sets down her reading glasses.

Then she looked at me. For a long time.

She said, "that's strange."

I said, "what's strange."

She said, "I can hear you better than I could yesterday. Is that possible."

I didn't know what to say.

She wasn't crying. She wasn't excited. She was sitting there the way you sit when you've just walked into a room and remembered why.

If you've watched someone you love get quieter in the way that isn't about hearing — you know the look I'm talking about.

There's a short video. I watched it after I put my mother to bed that night.

Watch the video

P.S. She listened again the next morning. She doesn't talk about it. She just does it.