When I close my eyes I still see color.

I see it in the sunsets and the sands I walk on from afar. Waves gently caress my feet, and sand blows around my ankles. If I breathe in, I can even smell salt. A passionate red burns like fire in the sky, and a gentle ripple of orange and yellow melts into the horizon.  

I see it in the crisp edges of my paperback, and in the charcoal words sewn into the page. From a cocoon of tightly woven covers, I hear pattering rain from within in the distance. My heart pounds from excitement, my thoughts race as faraway characters wander within my mind. 

I see it in the memory’s that are not mine, yet gifted to me by others. They sing, sob, laugh, scream. I mirror them, us twinning in our dance between all the monsters and angels, the light and dark. Peter and Jason, Marvin and Whizzer, Kelly and Samantha, along with so, so many others. They hold my hand and walk me into the ripe, purple summer. 

I see it in the tiny hand I hold, in the fingers that curl up around mine. The child that I used to know is now grown, but the memory is still small. I remember the first time I cared about someone more than myself. His favorite color is orange.

I see it in the face of my grandmother as she pushes the wheelchair in front of her. I didn’t know him well enough. I regret that. A dark blue settles within my heart as we pace in line to the church. While the music is somber, it’s the silence after that upsets me the most. 

I see it in the melody of a song I don’t quite remember. Humming under my breath, pops of brass and bronze appear. The band moves with their instruments, and my feet tap to the rhythm with no rhyme. The dusty wood shakes and beats, painting my ears with harmony and happiness.  

I see it in the laughter of my mother. Her golden hair curls and folds against the wind, and I think she might just be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The autumn air gently hugs her, and she gladly reaches her arms out to welcome it in return.   

I see it in the face of a stray cat that rubbed against my palm. He purred and sprawled on his back, raising white paws to play with my hair. We shared a handshake, meeting for the first time on the white tile of a restaurant floor.  

I see it in the tiny tears that roll down my face, shattering my defenses like stones to glass. Everyone keeps laughing, and all I can do is just keep looking right ahead. I try to ignore the buzzing in the back of my brain. The one that longs for my crimson fury to break loose. I fight against all that urges me to stand up, just once, for the little girl I knew so long ago. I remember how hard it is to be brave. 

I see it in the music that blares from the car radio, from all the times the dusk broke way to the dawn. I reach out the window and feel the hard air push against my palm. We scream out the words to our favorite songs, howling like wolves to the moon. The yellow street lamps illuminate the road, daring us to continue far past our exit. 

I see it in the fields of flowers I gaze out onto, the scarlet and peach swirl with the lavender that dots the distance. My young mind lives in the peace that comes from the memory. The remembrance of sweet, sun kissed air. Of a freedom that only comes with the running of your own two feet. 

I see it in the memory’s my father holds. The way his green eyes crinkle and mist when he speaks of his mother and of his father. Their absence carves a hole in both of our hearts. The sorrow is dark and scary, but comforting when shared. I remember the first time he ever cried in front of me. I joined him. 

I see it in the food placed before me, steaming piles of turkey and sweet potato mixed with a brisk fall chill. Picnic blankets rest upon the prickly grass, and someone pulls out a guitar. My family laughs in a distant echo, and I feel the warmth of the amber fire we lit that evening.  

I see it in the dark blue sky I stare up to. Crystal flickers shine down below, and shooting stars dance across earth’s ceiling. My friends and I lay next to each other, our hair and legs intertwined, laughing and smiling. I remember being so, so happy. 

Pink mixes with green. Red mixes with blue. Yellow mixes with brown. Black mixes with white. Until each and every one my colors make one, and with one stroke I’m perfectly painted. 

My memories, a swirling rainbow of pain and passion, of loss and love. I close my eyes, smile, and see color.