"Dad, what is blue?" my son asked me as I pulled the covers over his chest.
"Well, what do you mean, bud?"
"What is blue?" David eyes seemed to look just to my left, his eyes faded and cloudy. He never saw me, and he never would. But he always tries to seem like he was making eye contact. "Like, the color. I heard Mommy day earlier that that was her favorite color. So...what is it?"
"Blue..." I started to say, unsure of how to explain it.
I mean, how could you explain to a blind 6-year-old who'd never seen anything in his life, let alone color, what blue is?
So, I started to tell him things that were blue.
"Blue is...blue is the afternoon sky without a cloud in sight. Blue is the deep depths of the ocean, full of life. Blue is the sweet berries you eat for lunch. Blue is the rows of flowers in a meadow of freedom. Blue is the old beat up pickup truck your grandpa refuses to get rid of. Blue is the icing on your favorite cookie.
"Blue is also sadness. Blue is fear. Blue is the tears we cry and the burden we hear. But blue...blue is so much more than that. Blue is freedom. Blue is sweet. Blue is tough. Blue...is life. I mean...Earth is mostly blue so that must mean something, right?
"Blue...is everything we are. Everything we have. Blue...is more than just a color it's..."
"Amazing." David finished, sitting back on his pillow as his eyes faced the ceiling. "I think I know why Mommy's favorite color is blue."
I smiled, holding back the stubborn tears forming in my eyes. Although he was without sight, I had allowed my son to see. And he was amazed by it.
"Dad?"
"Yes, Dave?"
David furrowed his brow, sitting up as he tried yet again to face my eyes with his own. "What's your favorite color?"
"Yellow," was my answer.
"What's yellow?"
I cleared my thoat, preparing to explain to him the beauty that yellow was. I didn't care if this went past his bedtime, or made my wife a little upset, I was going to make him see.
I would make him see the beauty of the world.
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