Seeing in Color

Life has been pretty colorless for a while now.

And I’m not talking about channeling your inner old movie junkie and floundering yourself in thoughts of the romanticism of black and white. Because that isn’t the case either.

The world around you is just quite dull when you’re grieving.

You don’t tend to notice glaringly obvious things like a shift in the shade of a color. Life just doesn’t contain that type of vibrancy that comes oh so naturally to some tints.

But I’m starting to see past the dull grays in lieu of regressing back to my earlier state of trauma.

I can’t let myself go there again. It would be so easy though. It’s what I’d like more than anything. But I just can’t.

So, instead, I try to spot color. Even if my eyes have forgotten what it looks like.

See in Color

It helps that there’s a vineyard and farms near my place of employment. As I drive by the vineyard, in particular, I take in all the beautiful and lush green hues of the leaves and sturdy browns of the vines. It’s all rather magnificent.

And I remember what it was like to work in my friend’s vineyard in Cincinnati. You may know of her as the author, Cherie Dawn Haas, but long before she became little miss famous from her novel, Girl on Fire, she was building up her vineyard empire and asking me to help out.

And man, did I love it!

There was nothing like the fresh smell of earthy mornings at the vineyard undergoing back-breaking manual labor that generations upon generations had done before us.

And the colors, man, they vibrated with life. Bountiful purples. Intense greens. Gritty grays. Dark browns.

The colors were rich, and so were the people from the experience.

I miss that. That feeling of life when it truly runs through your veins.

I don’t know when or even if I’ll ever get that again. Because life still feels largely muted and dull. But at least I’m starting to see a few tints and hues.

At least I’m trying.

 

 

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