She stands on the concrete sidewalk, a hand on the navy blue stroller belonging to a child who is not hers. The jewel of her Grandmother's ring is dirty, dulled. An aquamarine gone colourless.
She looks in at the baby and stares at the blue of the Maple Leafs logo pressed on to his t-shirt. The light blue of his summer pants.
She looks over to her son, wearing the colour from his hat to the new shoes she had bought him last week. It was not her who had dressed him today.
She looks up, the sky the hue of freshly-drawn bathwater. The heat of the day lies heavy upon her skin.
She is wearing all blue, too. Her choice thrown in the washer the night before at 1 a.m., tossed hastily in the dryer this morning at the last possible moment.
Her eyes are not sore, but they ache. She feels their weight and sloppiness on her face.
She has always been good at not giving in. She was born with strength.
But some battles are not meant to be won.
She had wrapped herself in her blue blanket this morning and she let herself feel whatever she felt.
She was still born with strength and she knows limits. She knew when to stop.
It was still hard to put on her make-up this morning. Hard to paint a happy face when the eyes are oh-so-sad.
She had forgotten to put on her perfume.
"Here," says a voice. A female. A friend. Wearing all blue.
She takes the coffee offered. She had taken only one swallow of her first coffee of the day, earlier this morning.
A consolation prize.
It had tasted bitter. And she had no reason to feel that way.
She hands over the stroller to the rightful owner.
"Everyone say good-bye!" says the friend, forced cheer.
And she looks at the three of them, thankful for them. She smiles her best smile; then turns, walking away.
Time to catch the bus.
She lives her days on eye contact and smiles.
Everyone is uncomfortable today.
Only three people dared to look for longer than a second into her eyes.
They were all wearing blue.
She visits the library on a whim. Standing with both feet on the same step on the escalator. She has always taken up two steps.
This is a new feeling.
She wishes she had not spoke a word when he came today.
She wishes he had not been wearing all blue.
She wishes she had looked at his face, instead of everything else.
She had liked his shoes.
Everyday is different. Remember something from every one you can.
She looks in at the baby and stares at the blue of the Maple Leafs logo pressed on to his t-shirt. The light blue of his summer pants.
She looks over to her son, wearing the colour from his hat to the new shoes she had bought him last week. It was not her who had dressed him today.
She looks up, the sky the hue of freshly-drawn bathwater. The heat of the day lies heavy upon her skin.
She is wearing all blue, too. Her choice thrown in the washer the night before at 1 a.m., tossed hastily in the dryer this morning at the last possible moment.
Her eyes are not sore, but they ache. She feels their weight and sloppiness on her face.
She has always been good at not giving in. She was born with strength.
But some battles are not meant to be won.
She had wrapped herself in her blue blanket this morning and she let herself feel whatever she felt.
She was still born with strength and she knows limits. She knew when to stop.
It was still hard to put on her make-up this morning. Hard to paint a happy face when the eyes are oh-so-sad.
She had forgotten to put on her perfume.
"Here," says a voice. A female. A friend. Wearing all blue.
She takes the coffee offered. She had taken only one swallow of her first coffee of the day, earlier this morning.
A consolation prize.
It had tasted bitter. And she had no reason to feel that way.
She hands over the stroller to the rightful owner.
"Everyone say good-bye!" says the friend, forced cheer.
And she looks at the three of them, thankful for them. She smiles her best smile; then turns, walking away.
Time to catch the bus.
She lives her days on eye contact and smiles.
Everyone is uncomfortable today.
Only three people dared to look for longer than a second into her eyes.
They were all wearing blue.
She visits the library on a whim. Standing with both feet on the same step on the escalator. She has always taken up two steps.
This is a new feeling.
She wishes she had not spoke a word when he came today.
She wishes he had not been wearing all blue.
She wishes she had looked at his face, instead of everything else.
She had liked his shoes.
Everyday is different. Remember something from every one you can.
Comments
Sometimes it makes me feel ill.
Q
Don't ask me to explain.
Rolling my eyes at myself.
Q
no need to explain yourself.
Q