When you’re in a place so peaceful and quite you’re left alone with you’re thoughts. You’re mind wanders from thought to thought. Every red leaf reminds me of the stupid red sweater he wore during the fall that he could never match with his other clothes. The yellow leaves remind me of all the taxicabs we used to ride from home to the doctors. The orange reminds me of roses he used to get me because they were my favorite color. Until, of course, I saw them on top of his casket. The green reminds me of the pills he took, two in the morning, two in the after noon, and one at night. All the colors that remind me of him are what make up the forest. I wonder if I should sit in a white room till my own death. But white reminds me of his last breaths before his eyes rolled back; showing nothing but whites of his eyes. I walk back to our cabin with a single orange rose and two buckets of black paint. I told him so many times not to trust the doctors and their experimental pills. But, he wanted to see what I saw. After all, is that not what all colorblind people want.