Tasting the Colors

“I can’t wait to get home to drink my coffee.”

“Even though it’s 3:30 in the afternoon?”

“Oh, hi. Yeah. Coffee  doesn’t bother me that much. Besides, being at school so long gives me a headache.”

“Wait, you’re in my grade, aren’t you? I recognize your voice from class.”

“Yeah- you’re Lucy, right? Mrs. Odilla’s Literature class. I’m Raph. Well, it’s short for Raphael, obviously, but I usually go by Raph.”

“Hang on, the stairs are here, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. Hey you- watch out!”

“Don’t worry about it, Raph. I’ve lived 19 years with this stick; someone rudely bumping me won’t knock me over.”

“Were you born with it?”

“Pretty much. ‘Retinopathy of prematurity.’ And my mom was sick when I was conceived. So, many factors, I guess. Heh.”

“Can I ask, what has schooling been like for you?”

“Whatever it’s like for you. I’ve done all the same classes, it’s just strange starting in a new place, when I was so familiar with my old routes.”

“Careful, Lucy, that's the grass!”

“I could feel the difference with my pole. But, thank you, anyway.”

“Ahem. No problem. ... Where did you move from?”

“Nevada. My dad is in the military- do you feel that?”

“Huh? The breeze? It’s making a leaf keep attacking my face!”

“Hehe! Can I feel a leaf?”

“Sure. Hang on, we’re at the crosswalk.”

“Thanks. I love the crinkling sound. Isn’t that so satisfying? I love jumping in leaf piles too.”

“What else do you like? Here, we can walk across the street now.”

“I like to listen in a crowded area and see how many accents I can pick out. I like to hear my sister sing while we do chores. I love the smell of fresh cut grass as people hurry to mow before the first frost. I love the smell- and feel- of mulch and dirt beneath my hands to prepare and plant in the ground. I love taking a leaf and snapping it in half to smell the freshness. I like a lot of things, I guess.”

“No, that’s cool. I’ve never really thought about some of those. It would be cool to see - sense - the world like you do.”

“Well, how about you, Raph? How do you sense the world?”

“Huh. Well, I love the bright colors of Fall. I love the different colors birds come in. Oh, and I love to read. I love making coffee and smelling it- what- percolate? And jumping in leaf piles, too, of course. Haha! Here, we’re at the bus stop, Lucy.”

“Thank you. I like reading too, believe it or not.”

“I was wondering how textbooks worked for you.”

“I listen to them, but also- hey, is there a bench nearby?”

“Yeah, this way. You really get around.”

“Well, 19 years. Oh, the bench is warm- sun-kissed, heh. Sit next to me. Ugh- too many books in this bag. Heheh. Here!”

“Woah, is this Braille? That’s incredible!”

“Yeah. Although to me, it’s just as normal as reading a book with printed words. Either way, you get to fall into the world of the author’s creation, loving or hating the characters, learning new things, seeing, imagining, before you lean back with a sigh and take a breath as you pull your head out of the book and take in the world around you once again.”

“Yes! I’ve felt just like that, but you word it so much better!”

“Well, I’ve had practice; I want to be an author someday. How about you try: can you describe our surroundings, right now?”

“Oooh boy, Lucy. I’ll try. There’s a big bus that just pulled away. It’s yellow, obviously- how much detail do you want?”

“Heheh.  As much as you want to give me. Although, I can imagine what a school bus looks like.”

“Well, it’s pulling away from us. There’s this big tree behind you. And a mulch pile beneath it-”

“What type of tree?”

“Well, I- I don’t know. Its leaves are splayed out like fingers. Kinda tapered at the tip- what are you doing?”

“Just picking one up. The leaves are clustered together, and how is its bark?”

“All peel-ly. Rough. Here.”

“No, you hold it first. Close your eyes if it helps. Oops. Sorry, I didn’t mean to poke your face. I’m trying to get you to smell it.”

“It smells… green.”

“Doesn’t it? That’s how people described green to me. Alive. Life, living. I wouldn’t be surprised if humans had green skin with how alive we are.”

“Even without your sight?”

“Just because I can barely see doesn’t mean I am less alive!”

“No, no! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that; please don’t leave. Just that, ugh. Do you still feel like you get the full experience out of life, even without sight?”

“Especially without my sight. It is hard sometimes, but I don’t let it interfere with my outlook, pun intended. I am just so glad we have all our senses, you know? I'm ‘simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the variety of life.’”

“That’s from our literature reading, isn’t it?”

“Paraphrased, but yes. I feel blessed, regardless of how many senses I do or do not have. I can taste my sister’s cinnamon rolls, squeeze my parents in a hug and remember and learn and imagine and invent. You don’t need sight to live or love.”

“Well, I- I’ll be honest, I sometimes take it for granted, my sight... Um, can we do another color?”

“Sure. Blue. Blue is the color of calm, but warmth too. Welcoming. It reminds me of my mom. It is the color of the sky on a day when clouds are few and far between, the sun shines to warm your face- describe blue to me.”

“But you already know-”

“But you don’t. You know the color blue with one sense, but not the others. How do you feel when you see blue, think of blue? How does it - how does it taste to you?”

“Umm… Like water? By the look on your face I guess you want something more than that. Okay. Water, cold, cool, splash, summer. Don’t laugh, I’m trying.”

“Heh. Sorry. Go on.”

“Blue tastes soothing. Cool water on a parched throat. Floating in the pool under the sun. Even jumping into a pool with a big splash is still so… blue.”

“Yes, that’s perfect! You’re smiling, aren’t you”

“I like your laugh.”

“It’s kind of shrill.”

“No! It’s nice, and when you flash your teeth with your smile, it’s so… fresh. Like you said, you don’t need sight to brighten someone’s day. Ahem. Anyway. Hey, I’ll describe white. White, bright, like toothpaste, clean, clear, pure.”

“Go on.”

“White tastes like toothpaste- it tastes fresh. Oh- a new start, like a blank piece of paper. Starting clean.”

“Or teeth.”

“Ha! Hey, this next bus says bus number 4. It’s for Elyria county bus riders.”

“That’s my bus! I’m sorry I have to leave.”

“No, it’s ok. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yup. Enjoy your coffee.”

“Yes. You know, um, maybe we can... do homework at the coffee shop. Not today, obviously. But it’s a nice relaxed area.”

“Sure.”

“You do have a nice smile, you know.” 

“Thank you.”

“Hahah, um. Hey- coffee: warm, sweet, cozy, brown, raindrops and crunching leaves. I think I hit all five senses with that one. … Well, I guess you need to leave. Bye, Lucy.”

“Bye! … I wonder if he’s watching my bus leave. Until tomorrow, Raph. Endearingly awkward, sincere, kind, and warm. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”