She was five years old with strawberry blonde bangs. I gave her a ukulele that she held face-up in her lap and strummed, steady as a heartbeat. I played gentle guitar chords underneath her sounds, listening for the song she was making, and she sang for twenty minutes straight. She sang no, no no no no. She sang yes. She sang about her nana and her dad. She sang about throwing up, diarrhea and IV fluids. She sang with a smile, pleasantly lost. Her mother sat next to her, also smiling, so proud and echoing her daughter’s small clear voice.
She had eyes that didn’t see. Beautiful blue eyes that swung aimlessly when someone talked to her. I imagined her world as we played, soaked in the soundscape she was painting around us. Her world full of invisible colors. For twenty minutes, I was swept into a new kind of beauty with her.
My heart is staining colors I will never see.