I watch your pensive eyes stare out at the desert before us. When you first suggestted coming here, I wasn’t sure I should agree. After all, this place had given you such pain in the past, and though I know it was none of my doing, it still pains me to see how you close yourself off from feeling as you trudge through the arid sand. I try to tell myself that the pain is just because not everyone can see your beautiful spirit the way I can, but it’s a lie. Even the woman who rides inside of you can see it. She just refuses to admit it. And you would never accept the truth from me. You are far more content to believe that no one understands you.

Even now you are arguing with Her. I can see it in your features, as we trudge along. My greatest wish would be to take this burden from you, but I know of no one else who can handle it. No one else is willing to undergo the pain and misery, and no one else has a chance. Only you, with your gentle, forgiving love.

You seem to deflate, and I can tell that She’s scored some pain on your soul. I wince, and murmur thanks that you weren’t watching. I remember your midnight confession of how small She makes you feel, how miserably insignificant and helpless, and as I remember it, my hand clenches into a fist. But She’s not there to hit, and so I slowly, reluctantly let the fist open back up, flexing my hand as I remind it that She cannot destroy your spirit, no matter how small She makes you feel.

Even as the two of you fight, you talk to me, telling me about growing up in the desert, telling me stories of learning to hunt by yourself, of jackals and bristleboars and snakes until I almost laugh aloud. You can hear the chuckle in my voice, and look over at me with a smile of gratitude. As long as I am happy, you always say. As long as that is true, then you are happy as well. It still boggles my mind that you can love such as Her and still love me. Or perhaps I have that backwards, not that it matters. I return your love, for I can see your real nature, your generous and devoted spirit shining through those amber eyes at me.

But even through your silliest stories, your face remains neutral, impassive, as though you don’t want to give away your own feelings, good or bad. And so I start some stories of my own, memories long past and silly enough to coax a smile even from your dour visage. It’s been too long since I heard your bright laughter, and I know you aren’t willing to let go enough to let me hear such a wonderful sound, so I will take what I can get.

Finally, you do smile, and it lights up your eyes, turning them to burnished gold. We do well together, and I forget that too often. But I can’t remember when it was just us. There’s almost always been another with us.

The smile fades almost immediately, and you frown. I know it’s not at me, but it still pierces my heart, hurting far more than it should. And then your frown darkens into a full scowl, which only you are so good at, and I know She must have said something, either about me or about the desert. It doesn’t even matter which. Either will hurt you far too much for my liking.

Our conversation fades as your fight with Her renews itself, and I turn my attention inward, remembering the light smile on your face, a smile that might have lasted only a few seconds but that makes my entire life worth living. What I would give to see you laugh again, but . . .

And I know it will be a long time before I can hear that wonderful sound again.

We stop, staring out at the sunset above us, beautiful golds and reds that remind me of your fiery spirit and wonderfully warm eyes. I peek over at you, and I see you scowling once more, attention directed inward instead of out. She never gives you a moment’s peace, does She? I wish I could do more, but even were I to offer, you would not let me. You’ve always hated the idea of me in pain.

I reach out my hand to you, taking your own gloved hand into mine as I attempt to turn your attention back to the sunset. You look at me in surprise, then smile faintly, gratefully, and I know that shock at my boldness has quieted Her. Or perhaps it is merely that She cannot understand why I would willing seek out another’s touch. But you, at least, understand that I’m saying I’m here, if you should need me.

And I see your true colors
Shining through.
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you.
So don't be afraid
To let them show:
Your true colors.
True colors,
True colors are shining through . . .

And as you smile at me, I realize suddenly that nothing else matters in this world, and that I would not give up a moment of our travels. I cherish this time with you, for it is only with you that I can see not only the beauty of your spirit, but the beauty of the world around me, a world which has hurt me often. And without you around, I might, indeed, be a miserable soul. But that spirit speaks to mine, lifting it up when it would seek the ground in misery.

The rainbow nature of the desert sunset finally fades from view, and I can see a million stars above me. I watch you settle the camp. As always, you will not let me help, but that’s okay. I settle down, and smile at you as you tuck a blanket around my shoulders. You are humming to yourself as you make camp, and the tune gives me courage that you will survive this ordeal.

And though I can’t tell you now, I’ll find a way to tell you this someday: I will never forget the rainbow of the desert sunset, for I will see it always in your soul, whenever you smile at me. Thank you, my wonderful Brownskin. My wonderful son.