I could sit here and talk about how blue is the color of serenity and calm. I could tell you that blue is a color that exists in 53% of the world’s flags.
I could tell you that blue is the color of spirituality and empowerment.
It’s a reliable color. A favorite amongst many.
But for me, the meaning runs deeper than that.
And it’s best I tell you this in a short story.
Blue was the color he wore the first time we met. It was his favorite color. Assigned to him from the moment he was born into this world. (from the moment he could distinguish red from orange and green from blue)
Blue was the color of his eyes. If you stare at them long enough, you could almost see the ocean waves hugging the shore. You could almost taste the sea salt on your lips and feel the sand grains between your toes.
Blue was the color of the gem he gave me. It symbolized all the love. All the promises and hopes of a brighter future together. One that involved adventure and beautiful chaos.
But this isn’t a love story because the meaning behind the color blue doesn’t end at that. It absolutely and most certainly doesn’t end at that after all destruction.
Blue was the color of ground that I sunk my body into as he walked out of the room. It wasn’t a physical confrontation but an emotional one. It left me weak and helpless.
I allowed sadness to wrap around my fallen state of being like a dark blue blanket.
If I could muster the energy to get up and look out the window. I’d see his blue car as he drove off in the darkness. Him in his 4 wheeled bullet of a great escape, he sought out refuge from the mess he left behind like a child who was caught in the kitchen looking over the jar he broke.
Blue is the color that stained my heart. Blue is the color he left behind on the corners of my soul.