The Winter Sun is Blinding
Photo by Amber Newton
It had been a particularly hot winter that year, but Isabella didn’t mind. The warmth meant light jackets and long walks in the bright morning sun. Old books had warned her of winter and the cold, harsh air it brought with it. People had once spent months wrapped in big puffy coats, gloves and scarves, but it had been a long time since those things had been required. Isabella had been young when the warming really began to take hold, and she didn’t remember what the cold felt like, all she knew was what the books had told her.
She liked the warmer winters, and maybe she could do without the storms, but on the whole, the world looked much more beautiful in golden light than grey.
It was the kind of morning that made the whole world glisten and a light breeze rustled the branches of the trees. The earth was still slick with leftover rain from the days before and now that the storms had subsided, it seemed like the perfect time to get some fresh air. When the storms became really bad, weather warnings were issued advising citizens to stay indoors. They never used terms like ‘must’ or ‘prohibited’, it was always things like ‘For your safety, we advise you to remain in your homes’ or ‘Work duties have been suspended due to weather disturbances, you are encouraged to stay inside’. Her mother had always said that they had a gentle hand when it came to the rules.
Isabella grabbed her purse and glasses. The glasses had been introduced when she was seven and quickly became required by law. She could hardly remember why they had to wear them anymore, something to do with the light, she guessed. It was for their safety, and she had always been a stickler for the rules. She pushed the glasses up to the bridge of her nose and left the house.
There were little puddles left in the potholes in the road and the trees swayed big and wide at the edges. Their leaves were bright green and looked full against the blue sky. Isabella walked slowly, letting the soft breeze tingle on her skin as she breathed it in. The houses all had sweet, freshly painted fences and gardens of roses or tulips. It was quiet though. The sound of far off cars and the faint rustling of trees were the only sounds in the world that day. There were no birds. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t really heard any birds for a long time. The everyday sound of a bird chirping could often go ignored. When things were finally noticed, it often became too late to stop them. Isabella shook off the thought.
She continued to walk as she pushed down the fear that started to rise in her throat. The birds were probably just sleeping or flying around somewhere, right?
Isabella looked up toward the sky where the puffs of clouds floated along lazily and a serene sense of calm washed over her. Her foot moved forward, unaware of the dip in the pavement, and pushed down, twisting awkwardly as she stumbled and fell. Her glasses skittered across the pavement and small rocks pushed into the soft skin of her hands. Deep red blood begun to seep from the cuts and she felt a burning in her throat as her face flushed. She wished that she wasn’t such a baby sometimes. She pushed herself up onto her knees and looked up to find her glasses.
The glasses lay on the pavement, cracked and splintered, just like the pavement below. Isabella could have sworn that just moments ago, it lay flat and smooth, but maybe she was wrong. She reached forward and shoved them back onto her face but the world crackled in static. It became shifting images and contradictory worlds. The trees flashed between the lush green that they had once been and dead, twisted branches that reached towards the sky like lightning. The fences in the gardens were now fractured and washed out and the flowers were nothing but piles of disintegrating leaves. She tapped the frame of her glasses, as though it was a television stuck on aerial snow, but the images continued to race back and forth. A dull ache began to move toward her eyes and she threw the glasses back on the ground.
For the first time, since she was seven, Isabella viewed the world without her glasses. This time she couldn’t stop her tears. The world was brown and grey and dead. She now understood the purpose of the glasses, and it wasn’t anything to do with the light. They filtered reality and changed the world into something beautiful. They had made her blind. She picked herself up and walked over to one of the trees. Its gnarled trunk grew in a crooked way, bent over awkwardly and it felt dry and brittle as her hand ran along its surface. The warmth of the world suddenly felt claustrophobic. Isabella didn’t understand how this could have happened, and that she had been completely oblivious to it. The sky was an immovable grey and she looked up, once again. The panic rose. The absence of birds tore through her and she began to weep.
Isabella didn’t know what to say. What do you do when you find out the world is dying? She reached down and picked up a pile of leaves. They turned to dust in her hands. She stood in front of the glasses and slammed her foot down. She could hear the final crunch of glass and plastic. Isabella looked at the world, at the leaves and the trees and the cracks in the ground. She angrily wiped the tears from her cheeks.
She wouldn’t be blind, not anymore.
by Amber Newton
About The Green Line
The Green Line is part of a third year collaborative project exploring our personal connection with the ongoing climate crisis. Over the next month we will be publishing a variety of pieces from the student community.
Find out more about The Green Line here.