My Favorite Color Is Orange.

“Would you please help me write the essay for my English class?” I asked my sister Kate. She sometimes helps me with my homework, especially the longer assignments, because I’ve been blind since birth and I don’t like writing by hand or using Braille. I know I can use a voice-to-text app, and I sometimes do, but writing homework with Kate feels more comfortable for me.

“Sure thing, little brother,” she answered without hesitation, as she always does. “What are we writing?” She leaned in with curiosity.

“I have to write an essay on my favorite color.”

“Wouldn’t it be hard for you to write something like that?” There was a hint of confusion in her voice.

“No, I don’t think so. I actually think it’s quite easy.” Kate paused for a moment, and then I heard her grab the paper and pen.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Kate’s pen hovered above the paper, waiting. I nodded and began slowly dictating my essay.

“My favorite color is orange. I may not see it the way most people do, but there are many reasons I like this color so much.”

“Really? Is orange really your favorite color? Why?” Kate interrupted me, sounding surprised.

“If you hadn't interrupted me, you would know that,” I objected, and Kate started to laugh.

“Okay, I’m zipping my lips; you can continue,” she said with amusement. I did as she said and returned to my essay.

“Orange was the first color I learned. I remember this moment very vividly. I was curious about colors, so I asked my mom how people usually see them. She took an orange, the fruit, not the color, and cut it in half.”

‘This orange has an orange color,’ she said, handing me half of the orange. I could smell the sweet citrus aroma right away. I also felt the orange’s leathery, oily surface in my hands. I squeezed the orange a little and heard the satisfying squish. I put the juice and pulp I had squeezed out into my mouth and tasted the sweetness with a mild acidity on my tongue.

Some people might say she didn’t actually explain the color to me; she just showed me the fruit. But it was a meaningful experience for me because she taught me to perceive colors differently across objects and situations. We repeated this with other colors and different foods, but orange was the most significant to me because it was the first.”

“Oh, I remember this. You were so thrilled to explore every color. You were so little. I’m surprised you actually remember it.” Admiration colored Kate’s voice. “Please continue.”

“Over time, my relationship with orange grew stronger. I associated this color with my favorite season, autumn. In autumn, we used to harvest the pumpkins we had planted in my grandmother’s garden. I really enjoyed carving them with my sister and my grandmother. Well, my grandmother did the carving because she didn’t want to give us a knife when we were little. We used to prepare many pumpkin dishes, such as pumpkin pie, pumpkin soup, and salted baked pumpkin seeds.”

“These times were amazing. I miss Grandma.” Nostalgia filled Kate’s voice.

“I miss her, too,” I admitted sadly. The room grew quiet for a moment, filled only by the soft scratching of Kate’s pen. I cleared my throat and resumed dictating my essay.

“We used to dine on our pumpkin soup in the garden every time. Those evenings were special. I remember the sound of leaves falling from the trees and the feeling of the warm sun on my face during those chilly evenings. My sister once told me during one of our dinners that the sun at sunset is actually orange, too, which made me love orange even more.”

“Oh no, I lied. The sun at sunset is actually green,” she said, amused.

“Really?” I asked, a little horrified.

“No, I’m making fun of you.” She started laughing. “It is orange,” she added, reassuring me.

“Very funny,” I muttered ironically, though I felt relieved.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “You may continue.”

“Later, when I was eight, my parents let me pick a cat from the shelter. I chose the first cat who approached me, and, of course, she was orange. I named her Ginger. I really like her soft fur and the way she purrs when I pet her.”

As soon as I said Ginger’s name, I heard her coming toward us. She hopped onto my lap, and I started petting her. I really love this cat.

“The other reason I like orange is that I associate it with my best friend, Amber. Not only does her name remind me of the color orange, but her hair is orange, too. I definitely love her hair because it's long, curly, and pleasant to the touch. Moreover, it always has a nice, floral scent from her shampoo. She always complains when people say she is red-haired because her hair is orange, not red, which I think is really funny.

And this isn’t the only funny thing she does. When someone asks her a yes-or-no question, she usually just nods or shakes her head. But since I can’t see it, she decided to tap with her fingers—one tap for yes and two for no. She could easily say yes or no, but she taps instead. So even the finger-tapping reminds me of the orange color.”

“You have a big crush on Amber, don’t you?” Kate asked, mocking me.

“Is it that obvious?” I was surprised anyone could notice it.

“Of course it is.” Kate’s laughter filled the room. “But I think she likes you, too. I could tell by the way she looks at you.” That made me smile. I wish I could see it, too.

“Stop grinning like that and keep dictating the essay,” she said mockingly. I tried to hide my smile and went back to dictating my essay.

“While most people see orange and just think ‘orange,’ when I ‘see’ it, I taste pumpkin and oranges. I hear leaves falling from the trees, my cat’s purr, and the tapping of Amber’s fingers. I feel the sun’s warmth, my cat’s soft fur, and the curls of Amber’s hair. I smell oranges and Amber’s shampoo. I sense it all at once. For me, orange symbolizes joy and happiness. And this is why my favorite color is orange,” I finished the essay.

“So, what do you think about it?” I asked Kate nervously. She paused for a moment, but then I heard her smile.

“I love it. I think from now on, my favorite color is also orange.”