Its heat will trespass into my vision—blinding my sight, but that’s fine. I can already feel it sink into my skin; I’m very excited for its rays.
I wonder if it will be on purple, orange, or bright yellow. I want to choose all, but everything’s limited. I just hope He will create a sun with three colors. That will be fun!
“Here’s your apple juice, Honey.” My dad says as he pushes the glass into my open hand.
I feel its cold sweat and laugh. “Too much ice, Daddy!”
He snorts. “Want me to add more?”
“Daddy!” We find ourselves laughing—our voices are a mixture of sunshine and twilight.
There’s a silence that fills after our hollers. Dad clears his throat and asks, “What did you visualize, Honey?”
I reach for my eyes, still keeping my faith that I’ll see my fingers. “That I’ll be able to watch the sun when I get to see again, Daddy.”
One day, I won’t be blind anymore.
WORD COUNT: 167
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