When asked what blue looks like, most people will say the sky or the ocean, before struggling to find a more impactful way of explaining it. They will speak of textures and emotions, of scents and tastes.
I was very young when I lost all of my vision, and I am most often asked, now, what colors look like to me. My awareness of them has not diminished. The world around me is an ever shifting rainbow of vibrant color. When I think of most of the colors, I don’t see them in my mind any longer. There is no shade attainable by a pencil or paintbrush, but rather sensations and memories of sensations that feel, to me, to be that color.
Red is the encompassing warmth of an embrace, or fingers entwined with my own. It is the passion and power behind a voice raised in song.
Orange is perhaps the simplest to define. It is the taste of oranges. It is the taste of orange flavored candies, and the refreshing coolness of an orange popsicle enjoyed so often in childhood.
Yellow is the faint heat from the sun on a cool day. It is the pages of a book that have been touched by a thousand hands over a hundred years. It is the taste of a butterscotch candy as it melts.
Green is the feeling of exhilaration just as the rollercoaster speeds off. It is the smell of the grass after it has been cut. It is the feel of leaves, vibrantly alive.
Blue is the feeling of serenity on a cloudless, breezeless but comfortable day. It is the perfect smoothness of polished stones. It is the sound of a piano played by someone who truly cares about what they produce.
Purple is the feeling of a flower before it blooms. It is the refreshing taste of grapes, and the feel of velvet.
Black is the rich taste of chocolate. It is the moment after just waking up when reality has yet to assert itself, and everything feels heavy, peaceful and safe.
White is the sound of the wind blowing steadily through pine trees overhead. It is the faint sound of snowflakes touching down onto the earth. It is the feeling of impossibly fine sand sifting through fingers.
Pink is the undiluted, unrestrained laughter of a child. It is the delicate softness of flower petals. It is the first rays of sun that appear after it has been snowing.
Gray is the feeling of the world after it has rained. It is the heaviness that feels as if it is blanketing everything. It is the smell that precedes and follows a storm. It is the way that everything seems smaller and more compact; as if the rain has altered it all somehow.