Sight

"Alright, Sam. We're going to start taking the wrappings off of your eyes now. Are you ready?"

Sam nodded his consent, not quite trusting his lips not to betray him. He had been born since the day he was born, over seventeen years prior. He had been selected for a test procedure that may or may not be capable of reconnecting the nerves in his eyeballs to allow him to see. No one was quite sure whether or not it would work, or if would carry with it any dangerous side effects, and it was possible that it could damage him even further. But Sam had elected to go through with it. He had hoped beyond hope that he would be able to see the colors that had so frequently been described to him, but that he could never fully comprehend.

He felt the wrappings slowly be uncurled from around his head, and the familiar feeling of light falling on his face began to return. It was a warmth and, through his unseeing eyes, it gave a sense of presence that was otherwise unattainable. But as the wrappings came further and further undone, there was something more. A lessening of the blackness that had been his life that he couldn't fully understand. Something new. Something different. A sudden joy erupted in his heart, but he tried to stifle it, afraid that failure would make him hurt more than he ever had before if he let the joy take him.

He wasn't sure how long he had been under. They had given him some kind of medication that had put him under so that they could preform the operations without fear of his reactions. But with circumstances as they were, there was no telling how long the surgery would take. Sam didn't even know if it was night or day.

He felt the last wrapping be pulled away from his face. His eyes were closed tight shut, because he was afraid of what he might see. "Sam," came the gentle whisper from the nurse. "It's time to open your eyes."

Sam took a deep breath. He opened his eyes only a sliver before shutting them tight again. The brief moment of sight had been intense. The world was so bright! He couldn't make out anything he had seen. Where once his world had been nothing but darkness, in that split second it had been nothing but light. He waved his hands wildly, still afraid of what terrified noises he might make, and after a moment of desperate and quick footsteps, he could see through his eyelids the light dimming.

He tried once more. He got his eyes fully open, but things were blurry. A mess of lights and colors bombarded him. They were dim and muddy, strange on his untrained eyes, but it was so much more than he had ever experienced before. He didn't want to close his eyes, afraid that it would all go away and he would know that he had only been dreaming. But he had to blink, and for a moment it went dark again.

But his eyes opened a second time, and the world was still there. After blinking, things became a little sharper, a little more well defined. They moved past his eyes like the sound of a passing car, not quite in tune with their actual movements. He heard the nurses approaching before he registered that he had seen it.

"Sam?" she asked. He looked at her. He could see a mixture of shapes and colors, not quite sure what they were. It took him longer than he would have liked to admit to realize that they were her face. "Can you see?" He reached out slowly and tried to place his hand on her face. He didn't fully understand depth perception and he missed, but for a moment as it passed in front of his face, he saw his own hand. It was pale. Even in the dimmed lights, he could see that it was lighter than her own skin. And a thought abruptly came to him.

"I thought I was black," he whispered to the nurse.

She smiled brightly at him. "It worked!" she called out in excitement.