by Jacqueline Goldblatt
Dear Iris,
Did you know that in Greek myth, Iris was the goddess of the rainbow? Ironic, considering you’ve never seen a single color in your life. What’s the name of your condition again? Achromatopsia wasn’t it? Sounds almost like some eldritch being from an H.P Lovecraft story. Achromatopsia: The Beast of Black and White, Stealer of Shades and Poisoner of Pigment. But anyway, that’s besides the point. I’m not writing you to soliloquize about the nature of your disorder. We both know it’s unfair for me, someone who’s never lived in a monochrome world, to speak for you. However, I can speak for those of us who do see colors, and today I’d like to try describing the three primary ones. It won’t be easy, but you know I’m up for the challenge. Your smile at the end of the day is worth more than any headaches I might get from writing this letter.
First off, let’s start with red. Red has many facets to it. It’s a hue steeped in violence and love in equal measure. Imagine the searing heat of a burning fire and the warm, soothing glow of fireplace ashes. It’s the taste of coppery split lips and cinnamon hot chocolate. That time that bastard Alex kissed Raina at the Christmas party right in front of you and broke your heart? My knuckles were scraped bloody red from where my fist caught him in the teeth. Passion runs through red like the stuff running through your veins, intense as a volcanic eruption. It’s a powerful color, commanding. Yet, we also use it to express adoration, decking Valentine’s Day shelves with scarlet-wrapped sweets and cards covered in carmine hearts. I guess we tend to associate certain aspects of love and power together, and red just seems like the color that expresses both concepts best.
Yellow is happiness reflecting off the eye and back out into the world, tinting the sun’s bright rays and trailing down lemonade glasses in beads of liquid citrus. It’s present in the honk of taxi cabs and the soft down of duckling feathers. Imagine treasure hoards, glistening and golden, the clinking of the coins as pirates fight over their newly discovered bounty. Envision bees, lazily pollinating a flower one minute then stinging you the next. Yellow is awe and excitement with a heady current of fear running through it. Remember when we got caught in the rain as kids and had to run home, the lightning flashes following us every step? I can still smell the ozone as the electricity ripped through the air, can still hear you laughing even though your hands were shaking. That feeling…I can only describe it as yellow.
Lastly, there’s blue. Blue’s a conundrum. It’s serenity and sadness, the peace of a cloudless sky and the turbulence of a stormy sea. It’s like crying to smooth jazz music ’til your body aches from all the sobbing, then laughing at how ridiculously at peace you feel afterwards. There’s a sweet sorrow present in blue that is incredibly hard to categorize. The best analogy I can give here is that blue is like cotton candy. It’s delicious and light as a feather at first, then the fluffy clouds melt away and leave you with a cloying taste in your mouth and a cavity the size of Gibraltar. Blue is the kiss you gave me right before you moved away, salty from tears and tinged purple and green like a bruise from the red, red love bleeding through and the yellow fear of rejection that permeated your being. Well, I hope you know now that those fears were certainly unfounded.
Iris, there may be something to your name after all. Though you can’t see it, I can guarantee that everywhere you go, the world seems brighter and more vivid. Ever since you and your family decided to skip town, though, this place has been duller than dirt. God, it’s like you took the rainbow with you when you left. Lucky for me, you infuse everything you touch with color, and your letters are no exception. I hope that this little ramble of mind gave you some enjoyment, and a better understanding of what you mean to me. I can’t wait to hear your reply, and enjoy the gorgeous prismatic glow your words bring back into my life.
Love,
Roy