“Spaz!” Jonny cried, neck crinkled backwards to watch the whir-a-gigs dancing in the breeze. Their gentle tinkles filled the air around him like sparks of light.
His mother sighed. She didn’t see any blue; she never saw blue when her son did nor did she hear the tinkling sounding. to him, like light.
What a world he must see!
Kneeling down beside him, she craned her neck upwards, staring at the spinning mirrors. “Blue is a beautiful color.”
He nodded, face wide with wonder.
A bird flew overhead, blue notes falling from his beak. The grass rustled with blueness. Everything around, sky and clouds and newly falling rain, full of spreading blue.
He laughed again, arms thrust overhead. “I can hear the sky, Mommy.”
A hard, beautiful, life.
“I know, baby,” she said softly, hugging him close.