….

I lift mine eyes against the sky,

The clouds are weeping, so am I;

I lift mine eyes again on high,

The sun is smiling, so am I.

Why do I smile?  Why do I weep?

I do not know; it lies too deep.

I hear the winds of autumn sigh,

They break my heart, they make me cry;

I hear the birds of lovely spring,

My hopes revive, I help them sing.

Why do I sing? Why do I cry?

It lies so deep, I know not why.

….

It was already such a horrible day.  Grey, dull, ugly.

He was picked last in dodgeball and had his lunch stolen by that stupid Tommy Johnson.

At the end of the day, he ran as fast as he could to his mother's waiting car.  She always knew how to cheer him up after a day like this.

She sang all of the Veggie Tales songs with him as they drove.  She was never embarrassed to sing about cheeseburgers and hairbrushes at the top of her lungs with him.

The last thing he remembers is her shining green eyes and rosy cheeks as she smiled at him in the rearview mirror.

Then everything went black.

....

He's scared.  So scared.

And hearing their voices only makes it worse.  He's never heard his mother so sad, but it's his father's calming whispers that worry him most.

"It's okay, he'll be okay.  He's alive.  Shh, it's not your fault."

He wants to fully wake up and hug his momma and ask what's wrong, but everything is still so dark and he can't help but let himself drift away again.

....

When he wakes next, he tries to open his eyes, say something, sit up.  All he can manage is to squeeze the hand holding his so delicately.

"Blainey?  Can you hear me?"

He nods at the sound of his mother's voice.  She still sounds so sad.

A straw is placed at his lips and he takes a small sip.  "Where are we, momma?"

She stifles a sob and tries several times to say something before the words actually come out.

"Baby, we were in an accident.  And y-you got hurt.  We're at the hospital."

"What kind of accident?  I don't feel hurt.  I feel real tired though.  So tired I can't even open my eyes."

His mother let out a choked sound and put her head down where their hands were clasped.  He can feel the way she is shaking and the tears running down her face.

It's his father's voice that he hears next.  The tenderness in it is something that he's not used to.  His father has always been very straightforward, gruff, often demanding - never the soothing presence that his mother was.

"Son, another car slid on some ice and that's why you're hurt.  They've given you some medicine so you won't feel the pain.  But sometimes..."  His father sighs deeply and moves closer to the bed.  "Sometimes we get hurt in ways that we don't necessarily feel."

"But how can I be hurt if I don't feel it?  Is the medicine they gave me keeping my eyes closed?"

"Blaine, your eyes are open.  The accident made it so you can't see anymore."  His dad sounds annoyed having to explain.  This is probably the most he's ever said to Blaine in one sitting.  Blaine starts to cry and slowly brings his free hand up to his face.

"Careful, baby," his mother whispers.

He feels the bandages covering his forehead and eyebrows and then slowly moves his fingers down so they hover over his eye.  He can feel his eyelashes move as he tries opening and closing his eyes.  Tears continue silently falling from his eyes because he doesn't understand.  He feels ok.  His mother pulls him into a hug and rocks him as he cries.

'You can't see anymore' is all he can think before he falls asleep again.

....

The next few months seem to go by in a daze.  His father argues with the doctors and makes them run every test imaginable.  He's taken to see specialists, they say words he doesn't understand, and he doesn't have the will to ask.  All he can think day in and day out is that he wishes he could see.  Maybe if he hadn't made his mom sing those stupid songs then everything would be ok.  Or if he hadn't stopped to tell Mrs. Duncan to have a good weekend they would've made it home sooner and that other car wouldn't have been anywhere near them.  It's obviously his fault that this happened so he accepts that he deserves this.  He can't tell anyone this because his mother already cries enough and his father would probably agree with him.  He stumbles around his house still trying to do things on his own and usually ends up throwing a tantrum when he needs help (but won't ask for it).

He stays in bed as much as possible because he doesn't have to see anything to just lie there.  His mother still sings to him every morning to wake up.  It only makes him sad and he wishes she would stop, but he can't bring himself to tell her because it’s the only time of day that she's not crying.

His father seems to avoid him, focusing rather on finding a new specialist that can 'fix' him.  When the doctor he flies in from California tells him there's nothing he can do, his father yells.  All of the doctors have said the same thing - words like neurological and cortical and trauma.  The only word Blaine understands is blind and it makes him squeeze his eyes shut so tightly that it hurts.

....

The light is so bright in his eyes and he wants to tell whoever is shining it at him to knock it off.  But when he sits up, he realizes it's the sun.  He's in the park surrounded by lush green grass and blue skies that go on as far as the eye can see.  The red and purple slides shine like they are brand new.  When he stands up to take everything in, he sees his mother sitting on the swing.  She looks at him as he waves and smiles, but her expression does not match his.  Her face is smudged with makeup and tears.  She looks away as her sobs increase.

Blaine tries to yell out, but starts gasping instead.  He falls to his knees trying to take a breath.  He feels the darkness starting to take over again and he begs in his mind for it to stop.

Blaine shoots up in bed, gasping and kicking the covers off.  He can breathe.  It was just a dream.  Just a dream.  The only time he'll ever see colors again is in his dreams.  And even then he's not sure he remembers them correctly.  He curls back into a ball and cries.  In his dream, he couldn't see the color of his mother's eyes and now he can't remember the exact shade of green they are.

….

On the worst days, Blaine thinks that it would be better if he would just die.  Then his mother wouldn't have to do everything for him.  His parents could have other kids and they would eventually forget about this stupid, blind little boy. 

Everyone keeps saying how lucky he was.  He doesn't feel lucky; he feels broken.

He's run out of tears so he just pulls the blanket over his head and covers his face with his hands trying to hide from a world that he can't even see.

....

In the spring, his parents come to tell him that they're sending him back to school.  It's been almost three months since the accident and he's heard his parents argue about him just 'lying around' and 'wasting away.'  His mother wants to encourage him; his father wants him to get over 'this thing' as he refers to it like it’s just a bad day.  He doesn't like when they fight, especially about him, but he doesn't know how to function anymore. 

He panics for a minute thinking about that bully Tommy Johnson and how he'll never be able to get around the school on his own.  But his mom says that he's not going back to that school.  They've found a special school for kids like him in Columbus and the teachers there will be able to help him adjust.

"You're sending me away?"  He lets out a little whining noise, but holds back the tears.

"No, baby, never.  I'm going to go with you next week to get you enrolled and then your father will join us in a few weeks once he's able to finalize the transfer at his work.  We've already looked at some houses and we'll stay with your Aunt Marcie until we find one we like."

She rubs his back as she explains.  He withdraws back to that comfortably quiet place in his mind and just nods.  He doesn't care where they go.  He still can't see.

....

With the car fully packed, the pair head off a few days later.  He keeps his eyes closed and presses his head against the cool window.  Music starts playing and he immediately straightens up. 

"Can you please turn that off? I just want it quiet."

"But baby this is your favorite CD.  Did you want to listen to something else?"

"No, just quiet.  No music."

She gives him a concerned look in the rearview mirror though she knows he can't see it.  The next two hours are silent except for the sounds of the road.

....

They get settled into Aunt Marcie's house with no trouble.  Blaine has only met her a couple of times that he can remember and she was always nice to him.  But now she talks to him like a baby or like he's stupid instead of just blind.  He wants to yell that he doesn't need her treating him that way because he is 7 years old and most definitely not a little boy, but he only thinks that will make his momma cry.  Instead, he asks her to walk him to his room so he can lie down.

He doesn't cry anymore about it.  He's still sad, but has decided it's not worth the tears.  Staying quiet and out of the way are the only things he can think to do to keep the burden off his momma.  What he doesn't know is that she watches him always and prays every night for her enthusiastic smiling boy to return.

....

The first day at his new school is scary.  His mom leads him to the front office, but then the principal sends her away saying something about learning independence.  Blaine turns toward where he thinks his mother is and wants to beg her to take him home.  He lifts his hand slightly as if to grab for her.  After just a few moments, he frowns and lowers his hand back to his side.  The principal grabs Blaine's hand and begins to walk slowly with him down the hallway.

"Blaine, I'm Principal Foster.  I'm going to walk you to your first class and tell you a little about our school here.  Every student here is blind.  Some can partially see, or see shapes or colors, others are completely blind like you.  All of the staff here will do everything they can to help you, but we also want you to do as much on your own as you can.  For the first couple of weeks, you will be assigned an aide that will walk you to class, help you get settled, and teach you some basics for outside of the classroom."  She pulled him to a stop and he could hear her squat down next to him.  "I want you to reach your left hand out to the wall."

Blaine slowly raised his hand until he felt the cool, smooth wall.  He could also feel a thick wire that hung just a few inches away from the wall.

"These are guide wires, Blaine.  They'll help you to get where you're going once you become more independent.  Now, let's continue to class."

Principal Foster stood, but did not start walking.  After a pause, Blaine grabbed the wire loosely and started walking forward.  It wasn’t a smooth walk, but they arrived at his classroom with minimal guidance from Principal Foster.

Blaine met his teacher (Mrs. Bixby), his temporary aide (Jennifer), and settled into the class.  

'Just make it through today' he thought as he sat at his desk and Jennifer began talking to him about what his routine would be.

….

It was an accident.  Accidents happen every day, right?  But it was more than that.  That accident not only took her son's sight, it broke his spirit.

What 7-year-old stays in bed twenty hours a day?  She tried everything from cooking his favorite meals to singing his favorite songs and nothing worked.  Christina Anderson would have gone to the ends of the Earth to get Blaine what he wanted - all he had to do was ask.  Problem was, the only thing he wanted was to see again and no matter how hard she tried, she could not give him that.

She noticed that he stopped listening to music.  He barely talked.  And though his eyes still glowed that beautiful amber hue, the blank stare and overwhelming sadness drowned it out.

They were sending him to school in Columbus.  It wasn't up for debate with her husband.  He could bring in one hundred specialists and have them poke and prod, but it wasn't helping.  This school could help.  It just had to.

She talked with the guidance counselor all about their program - they had music and sports and knew how to help Blaine adjust to this in a way that she couldn't.  When she told Blaine about the school there was a flash of apprehension at first and then he just looked resigned.

Blaine didn't seem nervous on the drive there or when they settled in at Aunt Marcie's.  On the morning of his first day at his new school, he acted the same as every other day for the past three months.  It wasn't until she gently kissed his forehead and let go of his hand in the principal's office that she saw any emotion on his face.  She stood just outside the door, but the almost pleading look on Blaine's face as he searched for her quietly made her want to grab his hand and never let go.  The look only lasted a few seconds before it turned into a small frown and then back to his blank stare.

This would be good for him.  Everything was going to be fine.  It wasn't until Blaine and Principal Foster disappeared around a corner that she let herself cry.

'Please…' was the only thought in her head.  But so much held on that one word.

….

She was too nervous to go home, so she busied herself with errands.  Every hour, she would drive by the school, unsure what she was even watching for.  As it approached 3 o’clock, she returned to the school and parked at the curb to wait.  She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to go back to the principal’s office to pick up Blaine, so she hovered just outside of her car until the bell rang.  Dozens of kids from elementary to high school age emerged and dispersed to waiting parents and buses.  The crowd began to clear and Christina saw Blaine walking out slowly with a young woman holding his hand and talking to him very enthusiastically.

“Hi, Mrs. Anderson?  My name is Jennifer and I’m Blaine’s assigned aide for the next few weeks while he gets acclimated.”

Christina shook the aide’s hand loosely, more focused on her son with his bowed head.  “Nice to meet you.”

“Blaine, I’ll be out here tomorrow morning at 8:45 when your mom drops you off, ok?”

The boy’s head nodded minutely.  Jennifer released his hand and walked off with a smile and a wave.

Christina buckled Blaine in and slowly started the short drive home.  She watched him intently in the rearview mirror, waiting for him to say something, anything, but he just kept his head down.

When they got home, Blaine timidly felt his way to his bedroom and sat on the bed.  Christina leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed, a concerned look across her face.

“Blaine, how was the first day?”

“Okay.”

“What kind of things did you learn?”

“Nothing really, it was just the first day.”

“Jennifer seems nice.  And do you like your teacher?”

Blaine gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Did something happen, baby?”

Her concern increased when he didn’t answer, a long pause hanging between them.

“Blainey?”

She heard him mumble something so quiet that she walked over and sat next to him on the bed.  “What was that?”

“Please don’t make me go back,” he whispered.

“Why do you say that, baby?”

“I just… please don’t make me go.”

She wrapped her arms tightly around his tiny frame.  “But why Blaine?  It’s a good school.”

“Please, Momma.  I’ll do anything,” he choked out a small sob.  “You can teach me here and I’ll be so good and do whatever you want.”

Christina rubbed soothing circles in his back while he cried into her shoulder.  She waited him out, knowing more words would come when he was ready.  After a few minutes, Blaine had stopped crying and pulled away so he could lay his head in her lap.  She slowly began to run her fingers through his hair and hum softly.  His breathing had evened out and she was almost certain he was asleep until she felt him move while he talked.

“It’s so hard.”

“What’s hard, baby?  The school?”

“Yah,” he sniffed.

“It’s always hard at a new school, but it will get better.  Remember when you first started at your other school?  You didn’t like it until the third day when you found someone to eat lunch with.  And then you started liking your teachers and all the new things you were learning.  Remember?”

“It’s different here.  They want me to do stuff on my own and it’s just so hard because I know they know I can’t see, but they don’t care.”

“Blainey, I’m sure it’s going to be very hard in the beginning.  But I need you to try because this school can really help you.  There are a little more than two months until school lets out.  Can you please try until then and I promise if you still hate it we will find something else?”

“That’s a long time.”

“I know, but you can’t just quit something after one day because it’s hard.  I want you to try really, really hard to learn what they’re teaching you.”

He sighed and cuddled into her leg.  “Okay, momma.”

She leaned down and kissed his temple, saying a prayer for tomorrow to be better.

….

Jennifer met him outside of school just like she said she would.  The morning was hectic practicing spatial skills, organization, focusing on other senses to help with daily activities.  It was barely after lunch when he became frustrated.  Jennifer had him working on learning the Braille alphabet and it was just too hard trying to ‘read’ with his fingers.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Blaine, this is our afternoon activity.  It’s important that you start learning this.”

“I don’t care.  I don’t want to do anymore.”  He pushed the book off his desk and crossed his arms.

“Please pick that up, Blaine.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and ignored her.

“Blaine, I know this is difficult, but you can’t throw books on the floor.  Please pick it up and we’ll go into another room where it’s quieter.”

He let out a noise of annoyance, but slowly lowered himself to kneel on the floor and feel around for the book.  It didn’t take long to find and then Jennifer reached down and grabbed his other hand.  She led him to another room that sounded empty.

“Let’s sit down on the floor.  There are some comfy cushions.”

He leaned down and felt for one before sitting.  Jennifer sat across from him and again took his free hand.

“Blaine, can you tell me why you had an outburst today?”

“You’re making me do too much and I hate it.”

“Don’t you want to be able to do stuff on your own?”

He made a pouty face.  “Yes, but you can’t just make me learn all this stuff.  It’s too hard.”

“Of course it’s hard, Blaine. Learning anything new is hard.  And I know it’s especially hard for you starting here in the middle of the semester.”

“But I’m blind!  I can’t read and I can’t walk wherever I want and I need people to help me.”

“You’ll always have people to help you, but what this school will show you is that you can do so much on your own.  I know you’re blind, Blaine.  There are also 200 other kids at this school that are blind so you are not allowed to use that as an excuse.”

She rubbed circles on the back of his hand with her thumb.  “This book that you have, these letters that you’re feeling will help you to read just as well as those that aren’t blind.  It’s going to take a lot of hard work on your part though.  You’re going to have a lot of days where you get frustrated and want to just stop, but you can’t just give up when things get hard.”

“I don’t!”

“Ok then, show me that.  Blaine, your mother has told us how very bright you are, how determined and hardworking you can be.  I know you can do this and I’m here to help.  I won’t let anything hold you back, including your own stubbornness.”

“I’m not stubborn,” he mumbled.

She laughed a little.  “Ok then, how about you open that book again and complete the lesson for today.”

He sat there thinking about it for a minute before he silently withdrew his hand from hers and flipped back to the first page.

….

She wasn't entirely sure what she expected or when she expected it to happen.  Blaine had been at the school for nearly two months and the only advancement he was making was in his braille studies.  The music teacher said he refused to sing and declined learning any instrument, choosing rather to just sit quietly in the corner until it was time to go back to his regular class.  He never initiated any contact with his peers and responded less than enthusiastically when anyone approached him.  He'd stopped having a regular aide once he figured out the guide wire system and how to read the basics of braille.  His teacher said he was smart and did everything she asked, but stayed withdrawn unless forced to interact.

Christina thought when they finally found a place of their own and Blaine's father joined them in Columbus that things would improve.  Blaine seemed to adjust to the house very quickly, feeling his way along the walls and mapping his course.  But as his independence at school grew, so did his independence at home.  Unfortunately, this just meant that he was even more isolated because the list of things he needed help with grew smaller and smaller.

This should make a mother happy, right?  And she was happy.  But she still missed her little boy and she didn't know what else to do.  It was like living with a moody teenager instead of a first grader and Christina hated herself for thinking like that.  Blaine was allowed to be upset, he had every reason to want to be alone.  But the longer he stayed in the depths of this despair, she knew it would be that much harder to crawl out again.

….

“Class, please put your books away.  We’ll be heading to the music room here shortly for an extra special treat.”

Blaine sighed.  He didn’t know which was worse: math or whatever ‘treat’ awaited them in the music room.  Things had improved slightly in his months at the school, but he still didn’t feel like he belonged.  He was able to learn his Braille books relatively quickly and maneuvered around much more confidently than when he first arrived.  He was still pretty sure that he didn’t want to return after the school year ended though.  His mom could teach him all of this, he was sure of it.  And she wouldn’t push him to do more until he almost cried.  She’d let him go as slow as he wanted. 

Plus, it’s not like he had any friends here.  He ate lunch in his homeroom while his teacher prepared for afternoon lessons.  Nobody would miss him if he stopped coming to this school.

He put his math book in his bag and placed it in his cubby as the class lined up against the wall.  Once they arrived in the music room, he started to head towards his normal seat in the corner, but Mrs. Bixby told them the chairs had been removed to make more space and everyone should sit on the floor.  It was a fairly large room, more than double the size of most of the classrooms, but they had to fit all of the elementary classes together for this ‘treat.’

Blaine sat on the side against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, and his arms around them.  He laid his head against his knees and tried to tune out the loud chatter in the room.

“Alright everyone, please hush now.  We have some special guests visiting us today from Lima.  The McKinley Elementary School choir is here to perform for us all today.  They were one of only 5 choirs chosen to perform at this year’s Columbus Arts Festival and we’re so happy that they could make time to come sing for us also.  So without further ado, Mr. Randall, the stage is yours.”

Blaine heard a group of people shuffling into place and then someone softly began playing the piano.  A young girl started singing a song he wasn’t familiar with, but her voice was nice.  The rest of the choir joined her on the chorus.

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?

Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?

Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains?

Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?

When the song came to a close, Blaine’s classmates clapped politely, and then there was a prolonged silence before another student rustled forward on the stage.  The pause between songs was so long that Blaine started to drift off into his own thoughts again.  The next sound, though, hit him like a splash of cold water.

Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

There’s a land that I’ve heard of once in a lullaby

Blaine’s head shot up and turned towards the boy singing.  He sung without the accompaniment of the piano, but he didn’t need it.  His voice sounded so clear and pure.

Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream,

Really do come true.

The rest of the choir joined the boy in singing, but Blaine tried to focus on that singular voice.

Someday I’ll wish upon a star

And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.

Where troubles melt like lemon drops,

Away above the chimney tops,

That’s where you’ll find me.

Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly

Birds fly over the rainbow

Why then, oh why can’t I?

The rest of the choir faded off and the boy sang the last bit by himself.

If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow

Why, oh why can’t I?

Blaine unwrapped his arms from his knees and clapped along with his classmates.

“Ok, for this next song we need everyone to clap along with us.”

The director clapped his hands together until the group got the beat.  Blaine found himself clapping along without really thinking about it.  When they started to sing, Blaine smiled.

You've got a friend in me

You've got a friend in me

When the road looks rough ahead

And you're miles and miles

From your nice warm bed

Just remember what your old pal said

Boy, you've got a friend in me

You've got a friend in me

You've got a friend in me

You've got a friend in me

You've got troubles, well I've got 'em too

There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you

We stick together and we see it through

You've got a friend in me

You've got a friend in me

Some other folks might be

A little bit smarter than I am

Bigger and stronger too

Maybe

But none of them will ever love you the way I do

It's me and you

And as the years go by

Boys, our friendship will never die

You're gonna see

It's our destiny

You've got a friend in me

You've got a friend in me

You've got a friend in me

At the end of the song, everyone had joined in.  The loud applause and encouraging cheers from his classmates seemed to snap Blaine from his trance as he realize he had been singing along with a smile plastered across his face.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled like that.

“Alright, kids, the next hour will be free period.  You can stay here or return to your homeroom.  Several of the McKinley kids are interested in participating in our adaptive learning activities.  If you would like to help with that, please hang out here.”

Blaine stood, but stayed rooted to his spot against the wall.  The room had mostly emptied except for a few scattered voices over near the stage.  He kept hearing that voice in his head.  The boy had so much life and emotion in his voice.  He wondered if…

“Why are you standing over here all by yourself?”

Blaine was torn from his thoughts by the question and caught off guard.

“Huh?”

“I just wanted to know why you’re over here alone.”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

The other boy giggled and it sounded like a melody.

“Are you…?  Did you sing the solo in that second song?”

“Yah.  Did I do okay?”

Blaine’s eyebrows rose.  “You were amazing.  I’ve never heard a boy sing like that before.”

“You mean like a girl?”  The boy sounded defensive.

Blaine furrowed his brow in confusion.  “No.  Like an angel.”

The boy giggled again, this time with a hint of relief.  “Well, I’m no angel, but it’s nice to meet you anyway.  I’m Kurt.”

“I’m Blaine.”

“Do you sing, Blaine?”

“No.  Kind of.  I mean… I used to a little.  But not like that.”

“Why not anymore?”

“I just haven’t felt like it now that I’m blind.”

“You don’t have to see to sing, silly.”

“I know that.  It’s just that I used to sing when I was happy and I don’t really feel happy anymore.”

“My mom used to say that singing can make you feel anything you want.  So you just need to find a happy song and then you’ll be happy by singing it.  My mom and I sang together all the time, but I can understand sometimes not feeling like singing.”

“She doesn’t sing with you anymore?”

There was a pause before Kurt responded.  “No.  She got real sick the end of last year and…  she died.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt.  I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“It’s ok.  I used to sing her all the happy songs I know and it always made her smile.  It’s just me and dad now and he doesn’t sing a whole lot, but he tries really hard and he’s a good dad.”

Blaine didn’t know what he would do if anything ever happened to his momma. 

“If singing was something special between you and your mom, how did you keep doing it after what happened?”

“I just remembered how happy my singing made her and how much she encouraged me.  I don’t think she would be happy with me if she knew that I stopped singing.  So I just pretend like she’s still singing along with me and I want to make her smile again.”

“When I sang, it used to make my mom happy too.”

“Maybe you should just try it then.  I bet she misses singing with you.”

Blaine hadn’t thought of that.  His momma still sang to him in the mornings and hummed while making him breakfast.  She didn’t sing like she used to though.  “Yah, maybe.”

“I’ve gotta go.  I’m supposed to do the blindfold thing where we learn what it’s like to be blind.”

“I can help with that!” Blaine said a little too enthusiastically.

Kurt grinned and grabbed Blaine’s hand.  “Okay, let’s go.”

Kurt got his blindfold and they walked together along the guide wires.  The teacher led them out to the activity field where the older students were playing goal ball.  They could hear the ringing of the bell as the ball got closer to the goal near the building.  The teacher led the group back in where they touched different signs outside of classrooms to feel for the braille.  Kurt stayed in front, but waited for Blaine to touch each one to tell him what it said.  They ended back in the music room and Kurt quickly took off his blindfold.

“That was so hard.  I don’t think I could ever do that.”

“What?  Be blind?  We can’t really help it.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.  I just… I guess I can see how hard it must be for you.”

“It is.  But when you don’t have a choice, you just have to learn to do things differently.”

There was a long pause between them and Blaine could hear Kurt fidgeting.  “Blaine, can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“Were you born blind?”

“No.  I was in an accident and I hurt my head.  When I woke up in the hospital I was blind.”

“Is that why you have this scar?”  Kurt reached up and ran his finger along the scar just above Blaine’s eyebrow.   The touch startled Blaine.

“Yah.  So I guess I have it better than a lot of kids.  I got to see for 7 years before my accident.  I’ve seen colors and shapes and things that other kids here only imagine because they never got a chance to see.”

Blaine heard someone yelling in the distance.  “It sounds like your teacher is rounding everyone up.”

“Yah, I guess I’ve gotta go.  Uhm…  it was nice to meet you, Blaine.”

Blaine frowned a little, but held out his hand.  “It was nice to meet you too, Kurt.”

Kurt shook his hand and then turned to leave.  “Hey Kurt?”

“Yah?”

“Why did you come up and talk to me earlier?”

“I saw you before we started singing and you looked so sad.  When we sang you started smiling, but then when it was over you just looked sad again.  I’m alone a lot at my school and sometimes I wish someone would just come up and ask what I’m doing.”

Blaine smiled as he heard Kurt turning to leave again.  “Thanks, Kurt.”

Blaine stood there for a while lost in his thoughts.  He slouched and meandered back to his homeroom to get his backpack.  He knew it was almost time for school to let out.  As he walked along the wire leading to the front of the school he hesitated momentarily outside of the music room.  He sighed and turned into the room before he could talk himself out of it.

“Ms. Crenshaw?”

“Yes, Blaine?”

“Can I borrow a couple of your braille music books to take home?”

….

Something was different when she picked him up that afternoon, but Christina couldn’t put her finger on it.  Blaine was just as quiet as he always was as they drove home.  He still went straight to his room and only came out for dinner.  Her husband was working late again, so when Blaine retreated to his room after they ate, the house was filled with an all too familiar silence.

She busied herself with cleaning the kitchen and finishing the laundry from that afternoon.  She called down the hallway to Blaine for him to put his pajamas on since it was almost bedtime. 

Every day, she looked forward to two things: waking Blaine up and tucking him in at night.  In the mornings, she would tiptoe in and sit on the edge of the bed to watch him sleep for a moment.  His curls were always a tangled mess and he had the sweetest face.  He didn’t have that dejected look that he seemed to hold throughout the day.  He looked so peaceful.  And in that moment, it was as if nothing bad had happened.  She would hum softly and brush his hair out of his eyes until he stretched and opened his eyes with an unfocused gaze. 

In the evenings, he still let her read him a story though he would never ask for it.  He protested weakly (I’m almost eight, momma - you don’t have to read to me anymore), but then he would give her all his attention as they continued the story from where they left off the night before.  She knew his days were exhausting and it never took long for his eyes to droop and she would lose him to dreamland.

As she walked into his room that night, he was already in bed with eyes towards the ceiling.

“Did I already miss getting to tuck you in?  That’s my favorite part,” she said in a fake pouty voice.

Blaine didn’t respond and didn’t show any sign that he’d heard her until she sat on the bed next to him.  He tilted his head towards her and placed his hand on her knee.

“Momma, do you miss singing with me?”

“What?  Of course I do, Blainey.”

“But aren’t you mad at me?”

“Why on Earth would I be mad at you?”

“We were singing and I distracted you and then the car hit us.”

“Oh baby, is that what you think?  That because we were singing that caused the accident?”

“It did.  Maybe you could’ve seen the car and stopped us.”

She lay down on the bed and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her until he was cradled against her chest.  “Blaine, we got in that accident because someone hit a patch of ice and couldn’t stop their car from sliding.  It had nothing to do with you or me or even that other driver.  It was a terrible accident, but no one is to blame for it.”

His breath stuttered as he cried against her chest.

“Blainey.  It’s not your fault.”

She looked at his red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks, wiping away the tears that still fell.

“Then why did it happen?”

“Baby, I don’t know.  Sometimes bad things happen that we can’t control and it’s nobody’s fault.  Do you understand that?”

“I guess.  I just wish it didn’t happen and I tried to think of ways it could’ve been different.”

“I wish every day that it didn’t happen.  But you know what?  I am also so very happy that you weren’t hurt worse.  I know this has been hard on you, Blaine.  But you’re still here with me and I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, momma.”  He burrowed his face back into her chest.  “Can you sing to me?”

She bit her lip and held back the cry that desperately wanted to leave her body.  “Yah, baby.”

She started off slowly, one hand running through his curls and the other cradling his back.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are grey

You’ll never know dear how much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away

Her little boy was asleep before she even finished the first verse.

….

Everything wasn’t fixed overnight, but he felt like there was a small spark in him that was growing every day.  And as it grew, things started to get better.

He learned to read music in braille and sang with his music class (very quietly at first, but it was a start).  He picked the happiest songs he could find and it really did make him happy to sing them.

This school had been good for him just like his momma said it would be.

….

He started giving her a goodbye wave in the mornings and greeted her with a shy smile in the afternoons.  The changes were subtle, but there was something new every day.  On the last day of school, Christina took Blaine for ice cream as a treat.  Between bites of his sundae and stories of how his day went, he nonchalantly added that he wanted to stay at the school.  She didn’t probe further or act too excited though the smile on her face surely gave her away to everyone else in the shoppe.

“I’ll call your principal tomorrow and let her know.”

She watched him finish his ice cream, hers long forgotten.  The glimpses were small, but there he was.  Her little boy was coming back.

That afternoon when she overheard him singing quietly to himself in his room, she locked herself in the pantry for twenty minutes and cried tears of joy.

Before the summer was over, they were singing loudly together, neither holding back or ashamed.