navy, blue...deepening in hue, my shirt patch marked with sweat. the result of a good push at the gym. healthy heart. strong body. a scheduled "regular check up" with the cardiologist on the calendar early next week. must. do. good. quell stress. strengthen bones. defy statins. i'll work the cholesterol numbers on my own, thankyouverymuch.
grey...the skies, the road before me as i mapped my way to a meeting this morning with my library programming colleagues. raindrops and splatters on my windshield, light and dark greys dancing their way from top to bottom. a swish and they're gone. a soggy memory.
brown...brown brown brown. the voice spoken from one with rounded features, soft like butter. chirpy librarian voice, making a progrum out of a program. i had to say it quietly to myself. progrum. progrum. my voice silly at the sound of the word. excited brown, yes yes yes - sort of angela lansbury-esque. only brown. not blonde.
green...street signs. watching for the right ones. making my way towards my purpose this day, that being to retrieve...
white...the white box. everything that one life could hold. a life well lived. giving. caring. generous. daughter, sister, wife, mother. my grandmother. a lifetime of rich and wonderful living, all summed up in a white box. sitting on the seat next to me as i make my way home, tired now, feelings tumbling around my head like a child twirling on summer grass. dizzy, not quite sure which way i'm facing. seeking perspective.
purple...a touch of it in the cashmere wrap i wind around my neck, a gift received at christmas. a ready hug stitched into the plaid pattern. cocooned in warmth, i head out into the evening to gather with kindred spirits. lovers of words. brains like mine seeking words to tell the story that is life. a writer's support group, and i am a part. booyah - i'm blessed. if i weren't so tired, i'd dance. that's how happy i am, to be a part of this.
red...the color of my truck. i crawl back inside for the ride home. what a ride we've had today. here, there and everywhere, miles drawn out on a google map. a multiplicity of thought, common interests, bright ideas. perspective. and that white box. live your life while you have it. do everything you have to do and do it with everything you've got. your white box day will come all too soon.
back to blue...an old sweatshirt, providing comfort as i contemplate the day. a good day. mighty fine, in fact. i settle into its fleecy softness as my fingers dance over the keys of my laptop. retracing the steps of what i have hunch might prove to be one of the more significant days of my life (again, the white box).
black too, once again...night falls and i give thanks for the blessing of the last 18 hours of my life. and in giving thanks i lift my glass...
gold...or sort of, i guess. kim crawford in a bottle, a gift from my sister nans. to toast life. the writer's life. amateur. wanting. willing to take the chance.
The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say,
but what we are unable to say. ~Anaïs Nin