The color blue. It was the defining tone in my last real visual memory. It was a tone in her eye, that was punctuated by an orange hue from the setting sun behind a beautiful skyline. She moved her hair to behind her ear and smiled into her glass. Her wine had a glow of plum that contrasted perfectly to the shine of baby blue in her eye. We loved our time spent enjoying a drink in our city, we loved our little slice of feeling as if we knew something that nobody else around us saw. We felt a culture and an art in the way we lived. It was our little secret, and the more and more we explored our mutual appreciation for this secret beauty that no one else could see. The more we loved one another the richer the art. We became each other’s work in progress… Painting over the parts of one another that were in constant emotional tide. The blue became a reminder of that tide.
As I sat and stared into the sunset my eyes went blurred, the blue struck heavy against the bright wash of white and jarring red. I reached for something undefinable but it was too late. I suddenly felt like everyone around us knew something I didn’t. I could only see the blue. I could only remember her smile. I could only remember her voice, and the way she spoke only to me. The way the tone in her voice changed when she spoke to me became a representation of contrast in the painting that we created of one another, her voice the soft tones, easy to rest the eyes on. As I went blind I begged for that blue to become the color of life as I knew it. As my sight left reality the blue faded with it. I reached for her, but she was gone. Disoriented, I was left to remember… That blue became more than a color, it became my happiness. Without the blue, there was only an empty, indescriptive void. No color, no value, no past, no present, no future. A simple blank existence. Blind as I suddenly moved through a new world of nothingness I searched only for that shade of blue. I was blind.