I saw the sunrise. I heard the beautiful red, blue, and black birds sing their songs of communication. I saw the pine needles, in the tall pine trees, sparkle when a ray of sunlight hit them just right. I heard voices and contributed to the conversation.
I felt the soft, warm fur of the kitten. I heard the sounds of movement while the kitten was running around and jumping up and down.
The rose has a sweet aroma. Every flower had their own individual aroma.
I walked for miles with intervals of running. While walking in the sun, the mountains were so very beautiful. Green mountains with patches of dark green where the sun did not hit it. Snowcapped mountains against a blue sky spotted with white clouds. Two mountains close together with their peaks pointing toward heaven. Can you see it? Between the two peaks, see the red ball of fire setting beyond the mountain. The red sun against the sky which was a mixed color of pink, blue, and white.
I felt the cold wind blow and night was coming with every draft.
The warmth was specular when he and I embraced each other. His heart was pounding, his lips sweet. His arms were strong and his shoulder damp from my tears. The only eyes I have are his. The only ears or voice I have is his. My legs are his legs. There is something that is truly my very own. That is my vivid imagination of the world beyond my darkness, and beyond the wheels of my chair.
B. M. Sturtevant was born and raised in Savannah, GA, where she lives with her husband and son. In addition to writing, she enjoys working with numbers, walking, knitting, crocheting, and reading. Her bucket list includes attending at least one SWA workshop at Epworth and learning to play golf.