That night I stared at my ceiling, not being able to sleep. The next day I had so much to do. Go grocery shopping, visit my mother, work at the flower shop (which was what I dreaded more than anything) watch Ophelia (My little sister) for about two hours, and then finally I would go home and relax. Relax. That's the one word that my mother tells me means the most when you can't see color. Relax, go find a date, fall in love. Maybe that can happen for her but it can't happen for me. If it was that easy I would be able to see color. Ever since I moved out I haven't relaxed, but I have been busy and kept my mind off of the fact that I can't see color. Until earlier today. The meadow. Memories come back to my mind of my childhood, being in that meadow, running until my legs ached and the sun went down and Mom would call for me to come back so we could drive home. Those were the days I could see color. When everything was almost always perfect. But now nothing is perfect, or at least how that feels. I slowly drift off into dreams of my childhood, when I could see color without having to fall in love.