Blue Is

by Zechariah James Towner

A gull cries in the distance as the two walk hand in hand down the shore, the tide lapping at their feet. They pause and turn towards the ocean, the breeze ruffling their hair as the sun shines bright. He squints; she does not. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she asks.

“Yes, it certainly is.”

“Tell me,” she says. “What does it look like?”

He looks to her for a moment, then turns back to the sea. “It’s gorgeous. There isn’t a cloud in the sky and the light’s hitting the water just right so that is sparkles like a million blue diamonds.”

“Like blue diamonds,” she says quietly.

“Oh, sorry,” he says. “Sometimes I forget.”

“Its alright, sometimes I do too,” she pauses. “The color blue, what does it look like?”

“Blue is,” he hesitates, unsure how to explain color to one who’s never seen before. He begins again.

“Blue is the color of the cold, of winter’s icy chill, of the freezing winds that blow through the streets numbing you to the bone.

Blue is the color of sadness and sorrow, of the gloom that sets in when we’re unhappy,        of the misery we feel at love lost.

But not always.

Sometimes... sometimes blue is the color of rebirth, of second chance, a new start, of           the cool cleansing rain that falls from the heavens washing us clean and wiping the streets of film and grime.

Blue is the color of the ocean, fierce and powerful as it crashes upon the shore, of the            stream as it gurgles gargles over the rocks winding through the trees, of the sky on a perfect day when its not to hot and not too cold and you just want to lie in the sun for hours.

Blue is the color of your eyes, as they shine when you smile, sparkling like two shooting       stars in the night, pristine and perfect.

Blue is...

Blue is the most beautiful color in the world, and I wish you could see it.”

“Thank you,” she says. “I think I can.”