Last night, I was only 115cm tall, but I'm 116cm now. I drink a cup of milk, just what

my mom said, and it helps me grow, but I also sneak cola in the fridge. Also, when I wake

up, I'm already six years old after sleeping a day. Voila! I'm a real man within this subtle

body of mine. It's also this day where I'll meet my doctor.

"Raul-honey, please prepare faster. We're going to be late," mom panicking while

I'm choosing the right pair of socks. Alas! I think this is the appropriate combination. I

hurriedly put it on with my shoes.

"Baby, you can't put on a different colored pair. Wear the stripes instead," she's

mocking my fashion choice, but it's better to wear something identical than not.

"Don't forget your crayons on the desk," she adds.

Along the way, I'm curious how I can identify these eight colors within this box. I

raise the crayon with 'red' in its packaging.

"Mom, how can I know that this is red?" mom wonders how she can explain it.

"Red is blood, like when you cut your knees. It's the color of my love for you. Here

you go, your face is all red!" then she laughs after pinching my cheeks.

"How about this, mom?" I ask while hiding my blushed face and pointing another

crayon.

"That's orange, like the fruit. It's like your friend Joy, a color of joy." She answers

while waving to Joy's mom on the side of the road.

"Sun is yellow while blue is the sky," we look at the bright spot in the never-ending

atmosphere, and here we are, pinching our eyes.

"My skin is brown, and my hair is black?" while pointing both my arms and head.

"Yes, Raul, but skins also have whites and blacks, and hair can be any colors as

which the person favors," she ends because we reach my doctor's clinic.

The doctor is smiling and hands me something, "Go! Try it on."

This is what I've been missing these past years. Watching myself in the mirror, I

can clearly see red gradually engulfing my face as brown irises in my eyes start filling with

clear liquid that gently caresses my brown face. I'm wearing my favorite shirt, which I think

is green, but it's blue-colored, and the character print is a blue cow instead of typically

brown that my teacher taught. My favorite crayon I've been using for a long time is brown

rather than orange. Mom is crying with her flushed face while hugging my back.

Since I started to understand my environment, I could only see through grayscales

because of achromatopsia. But the rays began to spread in the spectrum of these glasses

covering my eyes. My monochromatic world became a polychromatic paradise that led to

more infinite possibilities.

I grab my crayon box, "Let's buy the 24 crayons' box, mom."

"We will get the biggest one honey," she wipes her tears and smiles.