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I stood at the edge of bed, watching her eyelids flutter, watching her breaths deepen, watching her slowly tumble into slumber's warm, down comforter. Another night, another story; I let my fingers run across my storybook's cover, feeling it's well-worn pages. As I took two backwards steps out of her room, I switched off the light and an almost tangible darkness entered the room.

 

I sat on the rocking chair in the hall, sucking in the night. I could hear the crickets twittering outside, I could smell spring's blooming fragrance blossoming in the air, I felt my shawl around my shoulder itch the back of my neck, hairs standing. But my world was enveloped in darkness, and I couldn't see. But I could still read. Almost unconsciously, I opened the book, running my fingers against the pages.

 

Once, I stopped. I could feel my heart racing, as if I had entered so world of yesteryear through a time machine. I held my hand in front of my face just to be sure. I could see an anamorphous whisper of five fingers dancing in front of me. Once upon a time

 

My little girl wandered out of her room, hair tousled, brown eyes blinking. "Mommy, why is it so dark here? Where are you?"

 

"Mommy's here," I said, embracing her slight figure. I slowly switched on the light, and a golden aura flooded the room.

 

I could hear her sigh, comforted. "Mommy, the blackness was so scary!"

 

"Was it, Zahava?" I whispered, smoothing her honey-colored hair.

 

"Uh, huh!" she nodded empathetically. "So, so scary! Can I have a cup of water? I'm thirsty."

 

"Sure, just stand right here and Mommy'll get you a cup of water."

 

"Oh, Mommy, can't I come down with you?"

 

"No, Zahava! You know the rules, you can't come downstairs wearing your bunny slippers; you'll slip."

 

Minutes later, my flower was watered and planted into bed. Tomorrow, she'd be awakened with sunshine's glow peering through her shades. She'd look out of her window and be faced with another beautiful day.

 

I headed downstairs to finish up on some project for work. Even though I could see in the dark, I still grappled onto the railing like a blind man. Darkness, blackness, was scary. I flipped on the living room light.

 

I sat down and turned on my computer. I hated my job. It didn't require sight. Before the surgery, it had been the perfect job, something I could actually do. But now, now that I could see a rainbow world, now that my eyes held a veritable color palette, I didn't want to close my eyes. I wanted to see the world; I didn't want to just hear it.    All I had to do was listen, and clack away at my keyboard's keys. Before the surgery, I'd never have dreamed I'd be able to do anything that required using my two eyes. I loved seeing the little black letters pop up onto my white screen when my fingers pressed the keys. I wanted to be a graphic artist, all I was, though, was an audio-computer technician. I wanted to see pictures from my imagination whirl into life onto my computer screen.

 

Just for fun, I started to design a birthday invitation. Zahava's birthday wasn't until July, but I supposed it was never too early to start.

 

Before I knew what I was doing, I realized that I had graphically drawn a pair of eyes. One was open and the other was closed, and I could slowly feel my hand prop under my chin as I flew into the world of memories.

 

The separation of light and dark was very separate in my life. Up until I was seven, every cloud seemed to be rimmed with a golden marker, every snapshot of reminiscence had a golden shade to it. The world was mine, and I was free. I had always been a rambunctious child, a tomboy of some sorts, and this year didn't prove me any different. One day, playing the backyard with my brothers, I looked up at the sun. It was big. And yellow. And suddenly, in all my years of wisdom, I just knew I had to have it. I knew that sun had to be mine, and I could put it in my pocket when I got it and then I could give it to Mommy and she could make a necklace out of it for me and maybe I could even wear that necklace to Tante Chana's wedding. I had it all worked out, and so I started to climb the large oak tree in our backyard on a quest for the sun. My mother was inside the house making us lemonade and my brothers were absolutely thrilled with the news that I would climb the tree! What a treat! What a show!

 

I can still feel my hands grabbing against the rough bark, pulling my body upward with my feet. I made it pretty far up.

 

The last thing I saw was the flash of orange, and then I lost my balance, and slowly, slowly tumbled to the ground. That was the last thing I saw for the next eleven years.

 

For the next eleven years, I lived in a world of darkness, a world where only nightmares lived. A sleep that I could never wake up from.

 

Until one day, I did wake up. The first thing I saw was my mother's face, eleven years older. It showed. The wrinkles. My brothers, they didn't look the same either, and although the world's film again played before my eyes it was tinted with a dreary black and white tone instead of sepia.

 

Until Zahava was born, my golden light.

 

"Mommy?" I heard a call.

 

"Hold on a second, honey," I said, opening the second eye on my screen. As much as I loved Zahava, I wanted her to go to bed. It was late.

 

"Mommy, I'm coming down!"

 

"Okay," I said absentmindedly as I added gold flecks into the eyes.

 

"Mommmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeee!" I heard a shrill scream.

 

My heart started to flutter abnormally and I could feel my legs fly to the staircase only to watch to my immense fright, Zahava skidding down the stairs, her eyes closed.

 

"Nooooooo!!" I screeched, a thousand thoughts busily, almost menacingly bouncing through my head.

 

I threw myself at the bottom of the staircase, my arms wide open, and slowly, slowly, I felt my golden-haired child tumble into my arms.

 

I don't know how long I was there, at the bottom of the stairs with Zahava in my arms, my heart beating as if it were running a marathon. I could feel the tears streaming down my face. No, no, no, no.

 

"Mommy, I can't see," I heard Zahava murmur.

 

"Open your eyes," I said hoarsely, almost savagely, almost afraid of what'd happen.

 

And slowly, her two eyes blinked open, slightly blank at first-

 

My heart started to beat and my head to palpitate-

 

And then she looked straight at me.

 

"You catched me," she said simply.

 

"I did."

 

"Sorry I wented down with my bunny slippers."

 

"It's okay, just don't do it again."

 

"Mommy, I love you," she said snuggly against my shoulder.

 

"I love you, too," I whispered.

 

I started to trek back upstairs, I tucked my little girl back into her bed, where she promised not to get up again.

 

I stood at the edge of bed, watching her eyelids flutter, watching her breaths deepen, watching her slowly tumble into slumber's warm, down comforter. I switched off the light, but this time, inexplicably I could see, there was a shining golden aura.

 

And I could feel my mouth moving again, as if in some sort of mantra, "I love you too."

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