Blue
Mum loved denim blue. Our family room had a denim sofa. She wore a denim shoulder bag. She carried a point and shoot around with her inside her bag and took pictures of the sky and ocean and pools. She had denim blue Perry Ellis loafers that she wore with mid thigh length jean shorts in the summer with a brown leather braided belt and a thin strapped cotton tank top. If you asked her what her favorite color was she would tell you it was “denim blue.”
In October my love gave me a sapphire ring and asked to marry me. The longer I wear it the more beautiful it becomes. Not because he asked me to be his wife, because the sapphire changes its shade of blue depending on the way the sun hits it or if I’m swimming in the sea and I like that a whole lot.
On Monday I got a manicure, I asked for baby blue chrome nails and even though it turned out a little more dessert alien than the soft shimmer I had hoped for, I still love my finger nails because they’re blue.
Blue is the name of my cat. When I found him I thought he was irrevocably sad. Now he purrs like a diesel engine in my lap vibrating with love and affection.
Blue is both enormously vast and impossibly small.
Blue is the saddest but somehow also the warmest color to me.
