When you enter the drama that is life, it is the color of the doctor’s scrubs, the first to hold you.
When you see the world for the first time, it is the color of your eyes, blinking with wonder at everyone.
When you draw your first picture, it is the color of the vast sky you scribble so proudly all over the paper.
When you sit down with other children at lunch, it is the color of the lunch-box you take out.
When you chew bubblegum, it is the color that stains your tongue.
When you finally get to high school, it is the color of the ink that someone spills all over you accidentally.
When you go to prom with her, it is the color of her elegant gown as she hooks her arm around yours.
When you leave for college, it is the color of the plushie you find so hard to leave behind.
When you get your dream job, it is the color of your tie on the first day of work.
When she says yes, it is the color of the stone on her finger, because she always told you she found traditional rings boring.
Besides, it became her favorite color once she saw your eyes.
When she tells you the news you’ve been waiting to hear, it is the color you paint the guest room all by yourself.
When cold terror washes over you at night, it is the color of your anxiety telling you that you will fail to be a good father.
When he turns one, it is the color of the fruit that he becomes obsessed with.
What a weird kid.
Pride can barely begin to describe how you feel about him.
When he sneaks out of the house at midnight, it is the color of your cold anger when you find out, but she’s there to make sure nothing goes out of control. You were a teen sneaking out to meet her once, too.
When he begs you to let him change his look, it is the color of the dye he uses on his hair.
What a weird kid.
But you’re still so proud of the man he’s turned out to be.
When he begins to work and saves up, it is the color of the shiny new car he buys you, despite your protests.
What a weird, wonderful kid.
He’ll always be your little boy obsessed with blueberries.
When he inevitably moves away, it is the color of the emptiness you and her feel, the color of the cold wind that seems to blow from nowhere.
When your bones start to creak, it is the color of your hands and feet as you desperately try to warm yourself by the fire.
When your lifeline ebbs away with no one to hear you and rush to your help as you struggle to breathe, it is the color of your body going numb.
When she walks into your room, it is the color of her shock as she falls to the ground.
When she weeps in quiet heartbreak, it is the color of the tears she wipes away.
When your son gets the news, it is the color of his thoughts in frozen denial. If only he’d booked his tickets on a different date, if only he had come home a little earlier, if only he’d been there to help you, if only, if only, if only.
Blue is happy skies, blue is quiet reading, blue is calm, blue is cold rage, blue is deadly storms that will stop at nothing to destroy everything.
Blue is not the color you see when everything fades away.