Iridescent Rainbows In Monotonous Colors

A boy was born blind, until a miraculous surgery allows him to regain his sight and hearing.

Something strange, something stirring. Something bright that pierces into my head and into my mind and suddenly I have this strange, strange knowledge that I am. I sense my being, a concentrated mass within a mass, as I always have, but now I can put words to the things that I have always felt--extending forth from my consciouness are limbs upon limbs that I can control. With this brightness comes a sensation that changes the way I feel what is around me, and so, hardly thinking, I move my mass until I am taller, until I can sense more what I see, and I am astounded at how much easier it is to control my body when I have a whole new way of doing it.

"Jacob," Mama's warm voice, delicate tones woven into what she calls love, reaches me, and I realize that if I move my head so that my eyes are towards her, then I can sense her even when she is silent. I have felt that her skin and her fingers were like mine, and could move like mine, but now I see that they are more like mine then I could have imagined. And yet they are different as well.

"Mama," I say, "Is this seeing?"

"Yes, Jacob," she answers. "It is." She places a hand on my head, and it feels the same as it has always felt, a gentle amount of pressure on my hair, except that I can sense it coming towards me before it touches me. The angles of her body seem so different then the way that they were in darkness, which, as I am told, is what I "saw" before.

The tint of her shirt is almost like my darkness that I am used to, except it seems richer, and not quite so very dark. It does not pierce my eyes and my mind as much as the lightness, all that is around me, does. I have heard much talk of light and dark in my life, and I have come to understand that although dark is more comfortable for the eyes than light, for normal people, light is needed to see.

There are so many different hues--some closer to light and some closer to dark, but all of them frighten and fascinate me. I clutch at Mama's shirt and am relieved to find that it still feels silky. I can sense things with my hands just as well as I can with my "new" eyes. I can feel love radiating from Mama just as I always have, and my new eyes don't help me to know that it is there any more than I already know.


The End

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