She told me that learning to interpret even those changes had been both exciting and exhausting.
We laughed together about how people assumed vision was simple.
Dad came carrying a bouquet of sunflowers.
Dr. Harris stopped by with a card.
Rachel, my rehabilitation therapist, brought a book filled with beautiful illustrations.
And Iris and Leo spent most of the afternoon arguing about who was allowed to blow out the candles.
Eventually, Leo climbed into my lap.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"What's your favorite thing you've seen?"
I smiled.
"That's a difficult question."
He thought about it.
"Is it dinosaurs?"
I laughed.
"No."
"Rainbows?"
"Those are wonderful."
He frowned.
"Then what?"
I looked around the garden.
At Iris chasing butterflies.
At Dad laughing with June.
At Nigel carrying plates toward the table.
At the sky turning gold above the trees.
For years, I'd imagined that the greatest joy of sight would be seeing mountains.
