Shades of Blue
I had hoped to enter a writing contest using the essay below when I realized they wanted a piece of artwork to be attached to the submission. I'm here to say I can read; write; sing; water ski; and play a number of board games. Sketch with a pencil; draw in ink; paint with a brush or sponge? No can do.
The only thing I can draw is a picture of a woman with a heart-shaped face; a cat with whiskers; a monkey face; a house with an apple tree in the yard. This means I have no talent at all in the art category.
My brother has always been a fine artist; my daughter is talented; as well as one of my granddaughters. Give me a yellow legal pad and a blue gel pen and I'm ready to fly. Hence, I didn't enter the contest but thought I'd publish it here on my blog.
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A sad movie; a dark moon; a half
empty glass of Chardonnay sets the mood for my blue funk. Thoughts
of loved ones lost; the inability to say what I mean; the desire for affection (and
lack of it) tightens my heart strings. I
want to cry; I need to scream; I’d like to sleep; I desire alcohol more than
anything else.
Smoking weed in the 70’s would put a song in
my heart…but those days are long gone. Casual sex in the 80’s would make
me think I was loved, needed and admired. Throughout the 90’s I would
exercise like a banshee until the sadness lifted. Each decade I would discover
something that would lift the curtain to my soul. If it wasn’t meditation it was assorted medications. If it wasn’t religion it was
righteousness. If it wasn’t therapy it was tough love.
Rain falls; flowers wilt; dogs go
to heaven. Vegetables rot; newspapers are
ruined by coffee grounds; a phone machine beeps but there’s no message to
listen to.
Blue can destroy you; gobble you
up like a wild turkey eating seed for the first time. Blue can pull you down; attach you to the
bedspread like new Velcro. Blue can rip
your happy away and make you chase it for the rest of the day or the rest of
your life.
To be blue is to be discouraged, down and dangerous. Sometimes a smile or a walk or a
song can blow the blue away. But all
three are temporary fixes. You must look
within and poke around the memories.
What is it that changed the color of your rosy glasses? Did your Mommy hurt you; did your Daddy
desert you; did your brother look the other way? Did your husband beat you; did
your employer fire you; did your neighbor shoot your pet? Did your house burn
down; did your marriage burn up; did your friend burn your diary? No matter the cause you must step through the
red ashes and rebuild.
What’s important to remember are
the many shades of the color blue. It can be the tint of a Montana sky; the hue
of a baby’s eyes; the pastel blue of a dyed Easter egg. Blue can be something that releases your
thoughts into the open, where you watch them take flight on the wings of a
robin.
Where you watch them take flight on the wings of a robin.
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