Paper planes

My granddaughter asked me about the sky today, just like any normal three year old would, bursting with questions about this world. Though this was a question so old that it stunned me.

I’ve almost forgotten what it was like to be young. Old age does that to you blurring out the edge until everything merges into a line.

So I told her a story, not because it never happened but because sometimes things are better off when they’re fictional. This was almost a century ago now, when we had only lost the colours for two decades or so.

-

I moved into Acro two weeks after my tenth birthday. Acro was a small community with orderly birches down the street and weather-board houses painted white. The population mainly consisted of wheelchairs or business suits.

I knew the names of the children in Acro off by heart: Winta, Kaya, Alec, Jaylen and Levi.

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon that I finally saw Winta come out from her house in her wheelchair. Shy ribbons of sun reflected off the wheels, reminding of sharpen knives dancing in the wind as we observed each other in that childish way.

There was very little breeze that day, though I remember clearly the one that picked up one of her wispish curls and blew it across her limpid eyes.

“Good afternoon, Winta.” I broke the silence after a while, walking forward and extended my hand. Still specked with dirt and grass.

“Hello, Ramsey.” Her voice was pleasantly cool, her handshake firm and steady.

“You know my name.” The question came out like a statement, as she tucked a curl behind her head. Regarding me with a smile and nodded.

“Yes, the paper planes tell me things, though they’ve been quieter than usual lately. I think it’s because of you, they stop coming every time someone moves into town.” She poked out her tongue and winked, before flashing me a small grin that brightened up her otherwise austere face like moonlight in a dark woods.

“You don’t believe me?” Her smile faltered, falling and I scrambled to rescued it.

“No, no, it’s not that. I just have no idea of what you’re talking is all.”

“Well, do you want to know a secret?” She whispered, voice low and secretive as she motioned for me to bend down. “They also carry colours!’

‘Colours?” I frowned, “what do you mean? They don’t exist anymore.” They were like the bones of a prehistoric animal buried in the sands of time.

‘But the planes have colours inked into their skin, they said so.” Her voice was adamant with a child’s love. “They told me, I’ve seen a sky so rich it’s like tasting Kal’s ginger brownies. I’ve seen the subtle shades of the evening sky like the silky folds of a chiffon dress.” She took in a sharp breath, pupils wild and diluted.

“I’ve seen things you can’t even begin to imagine, I’ve seen worlds drenched in strange colours. This is how I see the world, I can’t move but my planes bring me stories.’ Her cheeks were flushed as the last word soared and leaped out of her mouth. At that moment, I could almost see it explode and collide against the monotonous grey sky.

I couldn’t tell her what I thought was the truth, nor could I lie, so I choose silence.

“It’s fine, I know what you think.” She said with a blase tone, “we don’t believe things that we aren’t tangible or are meant to be myths.” She paused to finger the hem of her dress, “Imagine this, Ramsey.” Her voice sank into the tell-tale rhythmic beat of a practiced storyteller,  "Imagine, you're climbing a tree. A tall tree, perhaps a wattle? The branches are steady and the tree is alive with energy. Your hand follows one branch, another, and another. Your mother's frantic warning becomes a distant hum. You break through the tree top, the soft new leaves brush against your cheek, the warm rays of the sun bathe your face. And for a single moment, you're lost in the current of time, swept away with nature's scents and you feel yourself gliding along with the wind. Or perhaps bursting through the deep, dark soil for the first time.

Except this time, your feet slip on the way down, was the bark always this slippery?

You crash through the heavy branches, your body battered and bruised.

You land on the ground, thinking it was just another fall.

Only this time, you don’t get up.

"That is the sort of dream I have, Ramsey. It goes in a loop. Always death, always the end." A small resigned sigh leaked from her lips. It lay there on the ground, melting into the cement. I stood there; the autumn wind stepped on my hair lightly, pondered and ruffled amidst the strands then went on its path again.

After a considerable amount of time she spoke again, "that's the difference between you and me. That is why you would never see the colours." Her tone was not hostile, merely matter-of-fact. She acknowledged me with a small nod and a smile that could have been a grimace and slowly turned around and went back into her house.

I stood in her courtyard a long time after she had gone in, I looked at the sky that was grey.

I looked at the trees that was grey.

I looked around me and saw only a silence made of silent disapproval.

I saw the planes that Sunday, they were magnificent creations that had the wind for wings and flowed like water through the sky.

And they were all perfectly white.

－

My granddaughter gave me a very confusing look, which was rather unusual of her. She sat perched on my knee for a good long minute before running off to play outside.

“Are you telling her about that story again?” Nina said, dusting flour and cinnamon off her apron as she came out of the kitchen.

I sighed, suddenly aware of the paperweight sound it made. “She asked.”

“There are something you shouldn’t tell a child, not simply because they are not ready but because it will tarnish them.” She chided gently.

“But sometimes they’ll need it, just like Winta. There are things that should not be said but are said to protect them.”

Nina wrapped her arms around me silently and I leaned my head back against her. We watched as cars drove by, my granddaughter’s carefree laughter mingling with the mundane humdrum of everyday life. And though I’ll never see colours the same way Winta did, it does not take much to make some of my own.