"Everyone has a lens through which they view the world. Although not always simple, or easy, we can make an active effort to raise those lenses to our own eyes and attempt to see things the way others do," Maddie Wallace writes. (wundervisuals/Getty Images)

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I recently had an unforgettable experience.

When my son, Henry, was about 3, he started to mix up his colors. Green and brown were often interchanged. He would argue about the color of different items. I spent weeks repainting our house to a beautiful Revere Pewter (read: gray), only for him to walk in and say, “Why did you paint the walls pink?” Lo and behold, he’s colorblind.

Recently, my mom came over with a surprise for him: a pair of colorblind glasses. He put them on, paused, and then exclaimed, “THE GRASS IS RED!” We spent the next hour or so exploring the world with the glasses. More than once, he found colors that he’d never seen and learned that, often, what he sees is entirely different from what everyone else sees. He discovered that he actually hates the color red (ironically, this was formerly his favorite color — he says “his red” is better). He also discovered that his mom had not in fact lost her mind and painted the house pink, but rather a soft gray that his eyes had never before been able to see.

I’ve been thinking about it ever since. How strange to navigate the same world as everyone else yet see something totally different. Interestingly, “colorblind” is another term for what some call “contrast-sighted.” I don’t want to get too scientific, but I promise it will make sense in the end.

Here’s a quick biology lesson (disclaimer: I am not a scientist): Many believe that colorblindness is caused by a gene that has been selected for over time because it had advantages when humans lived in a hunter/gatherer society. As the theory goes, it tends to run more strongly in boys because men who were colorblind made great hunters. Because of their contrast-sightedness, they could more easily see grades of color, or shades, making it much harder for animals to blend into their surroundings. Contrast-sighted hunters could often see something that the color-seeing hunters couldn’t, and everyone ate better because of it. Alternatively, the women in these communities were gatherers. They would forage for berries and plants and bring them back to their communities. Their ability to see color was imperative as they determined which plants or berries were poisonous. Altogether, the hunters and gatherers were able to use their very different strengths, or visions, to better serve the entire community.

OK, so why have I been thinking about this? Because this was such a strong reminder to me! Sometimes we can see things that others can’t. Sometimes others can see things that we can’t. But that doesn’t mean that one is right and the other is wrong. It just means that, for the time being, our visions are different.

This reminder may never be more important than during the political season. Everyone has a lens through which they view the world. Although not always simple, or easy, we can make an active effort to raise those lenses to our own eyes and attempt to see things the way others do. Inevitably there will be times where, try as we might, we just can’t. In those times, I think it’s important to remember that even when we don’t agree, there is real value in our differing perspectives.

Watching Henry put on those glasses and say, “I’ve never seen that color before,” was a profound experience. He absolutely loves what he calls “the real blue,” but he still prefers “his red.” When we make the effort to look through someone else’s lens, we may discover things we’ve never seen or considered. Sometimes we’ll find something we love! Other times, we find that we prefer our own vision. Either way, we can appreciate, and maybe even understand, what others see.

As my mom left my house, she gave Henry a hug and asked him if he liked his new gift, or if they made him sad that he didn’t always see those colors on his own. He enthusiastically said, “I love them! Thank you — you gave me color.”

Maddie Wallace lives in Plymouth.