A rewriting of an older story, Iridescent Rainbows in Monotonous Colors. Josiah was born blind, but undergoes the first ever successful operation to restore his eyesight at age 13. A medical miracle, he must adjust to his restored sense of sight in addition to the fame and controversy that accompanies his operation.
Before the operation he had never seen the sun, and so some people thought he didn't know what the sun was. But of course he knew. The sun is a gaseous ball of light, millions of times bigger than earth, eight light years away. The sun is heat. The sun is life. He has heard many times that without the sun, the world would be dark; black; colorless. But his world, already, is all of these things, and yet he does not feel blind. He has felt the warmth from the sun on his skin. It is only the light that he have never felt and that continues to escape his probing senses. They say that light is not something you can sweep across your palms, or hear ringing in your ears. Light is the thing that separates nothing from everything. Light is the only thing that he cannot see without eyes.
Granmarie often says, "Won't it be wonderful to see your mother's beautiful face?" She does not understand that he can see already that Mother is beautiful. Her skin is smooth, her hair silky, her voice high and bright, her touch sweet and gentle and warm. He does not need eyes to tell him these things. He is not having this operation for Mother, because he doubts that she will seem any different with eyes than she does without. The journalists that flock around his hospital room always wonder, "Aren't you curious to know what you look like?" And yet he cannot explain to them that he already knows. He can already sense himself reaching out, moving, connecting, and growing. He does not know what sight could add to this sense of knowing so completely who he is.