How is it, do you suppose, that blue became the poster child for sadness? It doesn’t seem fair that this one color bears the burden of unhappiness. “Blue Christmas” is the anthem for the melancholy during their least wonderful time of the year.
If I had been given the choice at the time of my vision loss, I don’t know what color I would have selected to solely be able to see. It is easy to say in retrospect that it would have been blue, but I have no idea what I would have decided. I never had a favorite color. The whole concept of being able to perceive just one of so many tints and tones would have seemed preposterous.
That said, what color would you pick?
Of course I would love to have all the colors, but I have only been given one: blue. It is now the accent shade in our home, the color of my purses and my iPad case. It is prevalent in my wardrobe, if t-shirts and yoga pants a wardrobe make. It is the middle shades of blue that I can perfectly discern, especially the blue of Sister Rain. The odds of my sight being restored are slim to none, and, therefore, I will have a future full of blue December 25ths, as well as all the other days of the year. And that makes me very happy.
On a bench on the coast of Maine, looking over the Atlantic ocean, blue was everywhere. For me, although I don’t see in black and white*, rounding the corner of the walking path where it opened to nothing but sky and sea, I felt like Dorothy when she opens the farmhouse door and enters technicolor Oz. It took my breath away. Bluety is in the damaged optic nerves of the beholder, and, oh, did I behold. I did not want to leave.
Blue, I love you. Thanks for being blue . . . I mean you.
For a detailed description of what and how I see, read “The 20/20 On My 20/400.”
#sisterrain #alittlesightalotofheart #legallyblindwriter #blindnessisaspectrum #opticneuropathy #visuallyimpaired #blind #ifonlyonehueimsogladthatitsyou
