In a world filled with colour, I see none. Trees said to be red and green are seen by me in varying shades of grey. The sky a pale grey that I’ve been told should be blue. Clouds are perhaps one of the only things that I see in their true shade. It’s strange hearing people talk about their favourite colours when I’ve never known what those colours look like. When I’ve been asked I simply said grey as that seems to be all I see. Grey. People constantly use it to describe dull and boring thing. A depressive shade in the eyes of those who can see colours. And here it is all I’ve ever known. Until one cloudy, grey day. My family was moving. Father had gotten a job near the east coast as a weatherman taking us across the country. The whole way there I watched as grey scenery changed to more grey scenery. I dozed off to soft bumps of the road halfway there. “Ray, look! It’s the ocean!” My mother, an overly excitable woman, had exclaimed. Her shouting roused me from my sleep. As I rubbed my eyes, still in a sleepy daze,I glanced where my Mother was pointing. Every ounce of sleepiness I had disappeared in an instant. “Mom,” I began, shock clear in my wide eyes and quivering voice, “what colour is the ocean?” “It’s blue, honey,” my mother explained, a soft tone in her voice, “and sometimes it’s green as well. It gets darker when the sky is angry with a storm and lighter when the weather is bright.” “Dad, can we stop for a moment?” I asked my father who was driving. “Yeah, I need a break anyway to stretch my legs. We can check out that beach over there.” My father replied, unaware to my shock. As soon as the car was in park, I dashed to the edge of the beach. My parents trailed behind me, likely wondering what reasons I had for rushing forward like I was. Blue. Mother had said the ocean was blue. And right now the ocean most certainly did not look grey, black, or white. Colour had never been a privilege I had. Not once in my life had I seen anything other than a multitude of different greys. Until this day. The ocean isn’t grey. The ocean is blue. And I can see it. The ocean is blue and I can see it. For the first time in my life I can see a colour other than grey. An overwhelming feeling of joy embraced with an odd feeling of grief devoured me. Tears fell freely from my eyes and I made no move to wipe them away as I stared at the ocean. “I can see it,” I whispered to my parents behind me. “It’s so beautiful.” My parents embraced me from either side, tears of their own prickling in the corners of their eyes. “Yes,” my mother said in the same soft tone from earlier, “it is beautiful.” “Blue,” I kept repeating over and over again. “Blue. Blue, blue, blue.” “That’s right, Ray.” My father kissed the top of my head. “The ocean is blue.” The ocean is blue and I can see it.