A young father lifts his child out of bed, dressing him in dark jeans (B) and a knit brown sweater. Earnest, the young father of one, hadn’t seen the color blue in years.
HE WASN’T COLORBLIND.
He could see every other color of the rainbow, appreciate the beauty in the changing of the leaves, a bright Red Delicious, and the passing yellow school bus. But when it came to azure skies, ocean waves, and skinny jeans he had only a vague impression left by faded memories of his youth. Glacier Freeze Gatorade and Blue Raspberry Icee his best hope now at placing a sensation to the word.
“They just taste blue,” his kid would say, sitting content in the lackluster description. But to his credit, there Earnest would sit, taking controlled micro-sips of his drink, eyes closed, forehead wrinkled, tapping his tongue to the roof of his mouth trying to link the sweet, syrupy, and altogether unidentifiable flavors to the vast spectrum of color.
EARNEST LABELED EVERYTHING BLUE IN HIS LIFE WITH A CAPITAL LETTER (B). HIS CHILD, GUIDE TO THE UNMAPPED AND UNLABELED, MADE SURE TO CALL OUT EVERYTHING THEY MISSED.
Getting in the car (B) and driving east now, Earnest and his little boy are journeying to a place uncertain. Earnest didn’t know when he started and his kid never asked. A particularly uncurious child, he was a boy of few thoughts and many words. No toil in the mind: a cloud in a box condensing into a deluge of words but only a fine mist of meaning. His monologues a perpetual background hum of word salad which gave the sense he never knew what he was going to say until well after he had already said it.
Even still, he delivered with such confidence it almost made you believe him. He’ll be very successful when he grows up.
Together they drove, east and upward. The child, talking uninterrupted as they passed first grocery stores, schools, and restaurants; then gas stations, diners, and rest stops; and finally rolling mountains, reservoirs, and open road. The low hum of the car and the kid’s everlasting soliloquy phasing in and out of Earnest’s consciousness the whole way down. Each dip and rise in the road accompanied by his kid flying up out of his seat, and every turn, sending him dramatically left into the center console or slamming right into the car door.
Descending now over the far side of the mountains into the valley there is rich soil and green fields far as the eye could see. Cornstalks whizz by at dizzying speeds and cows line the road, infusing the air with a profoundly earthy scent. The child tries counting the cows but can never quite get past 12 before losing count and starting all over again.
A few miles pass, Earnest and his son pull aside, at last arriving at the chosen destination. A roadside attraction. The world’s largest peacock statue, standing 30ft tall, a reflecting tower of blue and green multicolor. A hundred dancing eyes fanning wide and the neon body shimmer.
“Dad, what are we doing here—” the kid says, unimpressed by the dazzling display.
“I don’t know just…I really thought this would’ve done it” says Earnest.
After a pause he continues, “It’s beautiful I just…well, I really thought I would see the blue this time. That there’d be some reward for the struggle. For my patient, stubborn waiting. For wanting it bad enough. More than just a green bird,” he says, nearly moved to tears, “Tell me what you see…
“It’s a big blue bird,” the kid replies.
“Sure, but what else? Is it really special? Does it sparkle in the light like I’ve heard about? Is it really the same color as the sky or is it something different? Is it all one shade of blue or many different ones? Can’t you see it in all the ways I don’t?”
“Maybe? I don’t know, it’s bright blue and it’s green. It’s kinda sparkly but that’s it,” the kid replies.
“Alright let’s go.”
But before they left the young child raced over and placed a big sticker letter (B) on the foot of the statue. Together walking back to the car, Earnest buckles his child into the back seat and they make their way home.▲
