When the sky is a certain shade of blue I think of a time when I was sick and riding with my mother to the doctor’s office. When the sky is a certain shade of blue I remember the day in elementary school when we played with a big parachute. We stood in a circle, each of us grasping an edge of the parachute in our little hands. Someone put a ball on top of the parachute and we bounced it around. I know that on that day the sky was a beautiful blue.
I remember blue water too. I remember riding in a plane to Jamaica to visit my grandmother and others from Mom’s side of the family. I looked out the window at the blue water. I saw some white waves surfacing and thought I was seeing sharks or dolphins, but I know now that it was waves that I was seeing.
I can see in my mind the view of the blue Caribbean Sea from my grandfather’s veranda. The sky met the see, both so blue that it was hard to tell one from the other.
When I was a child I was sometimes asked what my favorite color was. I would answer blue without hesitation. As I got older I thought that I answered blue because blue was a popular color and I was just saying what was expected of me. I don’t think that anymore. I know now that I love blue and all that seeing it invokes in me. The sky, the sea, blue flowers whose names I don’t know, paintings, sweaters, the eyes of a beautiful blue-eyed blond; it does something to me.