Seeing in Black and White

A long time ago, Rachael and I got an old matress from inside my house and put it on top of the wide monkey bars. We climbed on top (I think we even brought my cat) and admired the perfect summer day and talked about all of the great things we would do. We discussed our weddings, our husbands, our kids, our successes. Something about sitting on a mattress so high up made me feel like everything in my little childhood world was possible. I felt so supremely happy in that moment and the world looked so full of light and color. Life to me was alive, lovely and possible. All I could see was happiness unfolding before my eyes as fruitful and beautiful as the garden below our dangling feet. Can I now sit on top of the roof of my grandparents home and see Kiwanis park and think of a bright future? Can I look at the golden maple and have it look equally as stunning in the evening sunlight? Can I climb in rock canyon and find it as exhillerating as I used to? For how long will the color be sucked out of my life?