“Tell me, Angie,” the therapist asks, “what do you miss the most?”
Angie closes her eyes for a moment and opens them again. No difference. It’s still the same blurriness as a week ago but in her mind, she can see herself sitting on her window seat with a steaming cup of cocoa in her hands. “The fall,” she answers, “I miss watching the colors of the trees change outside my window. I miss watching the rain pelt at the window until the trees look like an orange blur.”
She misses her sight. It’s the only thing she’s missed ever since the accident. Her parents survived but Angie was the one who’s injured the worst. She was in a coma for a week and ever since she woke up, she hadn’t been able to see a thing.
“Is fall your favorite season?” Angie nods. Fall and spring, those were her favorite seasons. It’s the time when everything is changing, branches sprouting leaves and colors changing. It doesn’t matter now because she’s lost the ability to see colors.