August 20, 2000
I had gotten my wish. Mrs. Thorn assured my parents the business she had of her own was a thing of the past and she was ready to become my aid again. I was never happier, for Mrs. Thorn was more than an aid, she was my best friend and mentor.
When I explained to Mrs. Thorn all the things Samantha has said and done to me, she calmly gave me the best advice. She said, "You see color. Take this rainbow for example: each color is a hue of gray, different from the next. Samantha sees her red while you see yours. Who is she to value her perspective over anything else? Colors aren't everything, let me tell you. One day you will face something harder than the inability to see color, so don't get caught up in this now."
And she was right. Though, I really wish she wouldn't have been.
February 24, 2005
I continued to strive. I made it through school and got the hang of my disability. I felt normal to the point where not even fourteen-year-old Samantha Ronaldson could break down my walls of confidence Mrs. Thorn helped build. I went to movies with friends and no one made comments on my inability to see color, I ate at diners and people were kind enough to read me the menu if it wasn't legible to me, and I got a job in an ice cream shop where I ended up working every spring/summer. Life finally felt good again.
July 09, 2007
School was out and Mrs. Thorn was determined to help me get my drivers license. I could tell red and green from yellow, but red from green was a little bit trickier. I had to memorize the positions of the lights in every state of the United States of America. Hard, but worth it. I achieved, receiving my license after months of written and behind-the-wheel practice. My disability yet again shined through, but I persevered and come out on top. Though, following this achievement came the burdening news of Mrs. Thorn's health.
I was informed that this would be my last year with Mrs. Thorn as my aid. Back when I was in third grade Mrs. Thorn discontinued aiding me, because she was in the hospital with arthritis and a weak heart. The doctors were amazing though, they helped her get a little bit better so she could help me with my life before giving up on hers. But she could feel herself getting weak again, and she wasn't as young as she used to be. Mrs. Thorn would have to reluctantly quit her job as my aid in the next year.
June 13, 2008
Most would blame my outbursts on the simple fact I was a teenager, others would say I just had it rough. Both are wrong. I began acting out, getting irritated quickly and constantly doing everything in my power to make everyone in the world as miserable as myself. I had to do something; I couldn't just sit back and let Mrs. Thorn give up. All the times in my life when I felt like calling it quits she was there for me. How could I let this woman leave just like that?
The night Mrs. Thorn said goodbye to me she whispered that I take this all one day at a time. The truth is that I lost count of how many days went by before I saw her again, and when I did she was in the hospital looking terrible. It hurt the most to know her health was out of my hands. My colorless world grew even darker.
I enclosed myself in my room, trapped to punish myself like I believed I deserved. I decided destruction was the best way to go. I inched closer to a chair in my room slowly, as if the thing would suddenly get up and run away if I were to approach too rapidly. With hesitant hands, I reached out for the colorless chair. Such a dull object. My fingers wrapped around the shaped bark as I closed my eyes envisioning what I believed the color brown to be. I tightened my grip. Then I thought of yellow, green, orange, blue, red, and purple; my life away from this never-ending darkness!
I swiftly raised the chair, sending it flying into my mirror. The glass instantly shattered upon impact, plummeting to the ground. I let out a cry of exhilaration, but it wasn't good enough. I threw my decorations, shredded through my books, tipped over my dresser and ripped posters off the walls. Everything had to go; everything had to be destroyed. I had to be punished.
Grunts were escaping the bottle in my chest as I trashed the tasteless furniture. I caught a glimpse of my tear stained cheeks in the shards of glass hidden under the fresh rubble. I reached to throw it and cut my hand in the process, but that wasn't nearly enough to stop me. I continued to destroy everything, leaving nothing for mercy. When I was done I rested my hand on the wall, hunched over with stitches in my side as I fought to catch my breath. I didn't even recognize my room as I admired my handy work.
Everything was broken, but I couldn't find anything in me to see that as good enough. It was still colorless. Through all the havoc and pain, I still saw no color. I saw no hope, for me or Mrs. Thorn.
My mother walked in then, demanding to know what had happened. I could only mutter a small response. "I need black and white furniture. I just want to see real color." Then I turned my back on those broken shades of gray.
