Colorblind

As long as I can remember, I've been colorblind. I've always seen the world in shades of green. The kids at school would make fun of me for it, especially Pat Sorenson, and it would often make me upset. In an effort to make me feel better, my grandma told me about a legend. That those with green vision were gifted by the Goddess of Luck.

I know she made it up, but it's still nice to think about. My grandma was just cool like that. I remember eating mashed potatoes with her in the trailer, watching movies together. Our favorite one was Clover, about a young girl entering a dance competition with an Irish jig. Grandma and I would make fun of it, especially all the cheesy special effects.

One day, grandma insisted I stop by her house. I thought it was an emergency, but when I got there, she had just made cookies.

"These aren't just any cookies," Grandma winked. "They give you blessings."

That's my grandma all right. I tasted one and took the rest home. But on my drive, I noticed something.

A rainbow. With more than one color.

It was almost as if I could taste it. For the first time ever, I was seeing colors. I pulled over to the side of the road and just stared. Grandma was right. She was right all along.