She sits there and she wonders. She wants to know why birds can fly when she can’t, and how grass grows when she hasn’t grown at all, not compared to her best friend Lily who is taller than all the other boys in grade 3. And she wants to know why the sky is blue, and not purple, or green, or pink. A pink sky would be cool. Maybe if the sky was pink, the clouds would be rainbow. But then what colour would the rainbows be? Perhaps they would be brown; but not an ugly brown like dirt, more like the warm, soft, pretty brown of her baby sister’s curly hair, or a colour which hasn’t been discovered yet, or maybe there wouldn’t even be any rainbows at all. She tries to imagine a world without rainbows, and then wonders if there would be no rain. Her mind is so full that she feels like she has to know all these things or she will explode.
So she asks, and they tell her. Birds have wings to help them fly, and she doesn’t. She is a human. But why she wonders, why doesn’t she have wings? They keep explaining. Grass grows from a seed, and seeds need water and sunlight. She is a human, so she grows differently. She can’t help thinking that really people and seeds are the same, because people need water and sunlight to grow as well. But she doesn’t have a chance to tell them this because they keep explaining things. The sky is blue because of sunlight shattering and refracting into coloured particles. And she listens and absorbs but still she doesn’t quite understand why.
Because really, if the sun is shattering, then what does it matter if the colour is blue. Shouldn’t they be worrying about how the sky is still holding up, and how long there is until it falls, and if it does fall then won’t they all be crushed? Because when things shatter they break, just like the time the vase which belonged to her mother smashed all over the floor. And if the sunlight is shattering and the sky isn’t whole then maybe it’s broken. A broken sky which is blue. She tries to tell them but they won’t listen. No, they say, that’s not possible. The sky isn’t broken, it’s just blue because the sunlight is shattering. Which really makes no sense to her at all. Sometimes she thinks adults are silly. They tell her to stop asking so many questions and instead listen to their answers.
So she keeps wondering. But this time she won’t ask them. Maybe the sky is blue because blue is a sad colour. She can’t help thinking that if she were shattering into a thousand tiny fragments, she’d feel blue as well.