Blind Eye

              As I walked towards the large neon sign flickering in the dark alley, I couldn’t help but notice the words ‘color fantasy’ buzzing in and out of existence. The letters were bright red with a blue border making them pop out at me. As I neared the door, I noticed the years of rust and paint flaking off onto the concrete doorstep. I knocked twice and pulled my hand away, watching as paint chips floated to the ground.

              As I waited outside the cars on the street raced by colors of yellow, red, and blue going both directions. I remembered the first time I tried to explain color to my mom, and she told me to stop talking crazy. I continued to explain what I saw to people my whole life, but everyone told me to be quiet and not cause a disturbance. Once I was old enough, I realized I saw things others could not and I slowly stopped trying to explain what I saw to others. I also walked around with a constant headache because the colors of everything always clashed with each other. Bright reds, dark greens, neutral yellows… the combinations were endless and grotesque.

              Just as I stepped off the stoop to walk back home the door opened wide to reveal and scraggly looking man. He wore a flower printed navy-blue shirt, light tan pants, long unkept grey hair, and sandals. He was smiling at me as I stood in awe at the first person to wear colors that matched this well.

              “Well hey there! You must be the one who I’ve been told about!” The man said gesturing me inside.

              “Yea… I got your letter on my windshield wiper...” I recalled as I remembered the note left on my car earlier that morning. It had read ‘We know you’re different, come here to be among like individuals. As I stepped inside, I again noticed clashing colors as other people stood around a large room with different objects in their hands.

              “Well lemme show you around kid!” The man said gesturing me to the side of the room.

              First, we approached a man sitting at a large black polished object with ivory rectangles where his fingers laid. He hit multiple rectangles and every third or so I would hear a sound. He looked frustrated as he looked up to a woman who shook her head when he looked up in approval.

              “This is impossible to make something that others can hear!” He said in anguish as he slammed his head down and a jumble of sounds came out of the box at once.

              Next we walked over to a corner of the room that seemed to jump a hundred degrees next to a large oven. A portly woman stood there as she pulled out a brown rectangle inside of silver baking tray.

              “Doesn’t this smell delicious?” she asked as she shoved the dish into my face.

              I inhaled as deep as I could but only smelled the warm tin of the pan. When I explained to her, she seemed disappointed before a wave of acceptance crossed her face.

              “It’s alright hun everyone’s taste is different! There’s something for everyone”! She then turned back and started frosting it before switching her attention to some sort of shrimp dish.

              As we neared the far wall, I noticed it had a white rectangle held up by some wooden rods and a stool in front of it. Next to it was the same thing but with a picture that was predominantly blue hues. It was brightly lit with a large window in front of it that overlooked the city. The man walked over and sat down at the already painted picture and picked up a small wooden tray with blue blobs cover it.

              “Well? Come over here and show me what you got kid. I don’t know if you see what I see but this is the only color I can see. Blue. It becomes a bit much sometimes but at least I can see something you know?” He said as he focused on mixing the blue colors to make darker or lighter shades.

              I walked over and picked up some colors from the paint rack and dotted a similar wooden tray. As I looked at the sheet in front of me, I realized I had nothing to paint! I sat for a while until I realize the guy was starring me.

              “What’s wrong? Don’t have anything to paint?” he said through a chuckle. “Listen I can only see blue colors, she can taste a large assortment of flavors that no one else can, and the first guy hears melodies and winds them together into songs only he can hear. We all have a special talent and we come here everyday to make that talent better. People look at us different because we see things different from them. Does it mean we’re weird or wrong? Absolutely not it means our path is just different. No matter what you have been told growing up you are special and shouldn’t be embarrassed of what makes you special” he had a genuine smile across his face.

              I turned back to the canvas with the biggest smile of my life on my face and started painting what I thought was beautiful. Hours passed by and the hands on the clock ticked by. Eventually I received a call from my mom wanting me home. After I finished the call, I stepped back from the painting to see what I had a created.

              “That’s wild, there’s some blue in there! What is covered by the grey parts?” the man next me asked.

              I pointed to the sky and explained that’s what I saw everyday except for cloudy days. The flowers lining the road were reds, purples, yellows, and oranges. The roads had yellow markers on them. And the trees had large green leaves stretching up to the sunlight. I had never explained to someone what colors were after my parents, but he seemed interested.

              “Paint for yourself and you’ll never have a reason to feel unfulfilled in your passion. Paint for profit and you’ll eventually see nothing but grey to appease the masses. Art is an expression of yourself and should never be used to speak to everyone. Shout your message through your colors!” The man said handing me a key to the building. He took the still wet painting and hung it up next to other paints. Some with only one color in them and some with multiple colors. Mine seemed to be the only one with all the colors on it and felt happy.

              As I walked home, I thought about how happy painting made me and how beautiful those others were. If my art appealed to someone else that will be amazing but for right now my passion wants to make me happy and I want to learn to master it.

              When I walked through the door I was instantly hugged by my mom.

              “Oh, sweetie I was so worried you had been gone for so long!” She said with tears in her eyes. As she pulled back to look and listen, a smile spread across her face. “You’re smiling! I’m so happy you’re smiling!” She hugged me again and held me tighter.

              She let me go after a minute and I noticed I had a tear in my eye. As I went to explain where I had been, she stopped me.

              “It doesn’t matter sweetie you’re smiling for the first time since I can remember and THAT’S all that matters. Now go wash that grey stuff off your arms and eat the dinner I left in your room. And if it’s not too much trouble whatever you did today that made you happy, please just come home sooner next time” she said walking back into the kitchen.

              I looked down at the paint splattering my arms. The colors mixing together and spotting my skin like a rainbow cheetah.

              “No problem! And I promise this smile isn’t leaving anytime soon!” I shouted down the stairs as I went to my room to sleep peacefully and happily for the first time since I realized I could truly see.