If she had to pick one color, it would have to be blue. Just like that.
The threadbare pastel blue hand-me-down baby blanket. As the youngest and only girl, in a family of seven, she was the last newborn to be received... the warmth inherent within lost since the eldest son, Azure, was born.
The steel blue and white tips of the wet shores, waning and waxing, consuming and integrating, the sounds of the rubber pounding on concrete.
The navy blue of her father’s and brothers’ broad backs as they walked one by one through weathered steel walls and rivets.
The dusty faded cornflower blue specks in the bathroom wallpaper that watched over her quiet examinations of soft spots located by concentrated, translucent dirty blacks and muddled blues.
Looking back, it’s always been like that.
And it always will be.
Ahead are celestial blues, marine blues, midnight blues, deep and true blues like the never-ending expanse of the universe, water, and possibilities.
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