On an intellectual level...I know they are beautiful, and that their colors should remind me of a quiet sunrise at the top of the trees in my backyard. But all I see, really, are fluffy petals in an interesting swirl.
I seem to have lost my ability to see color this week. Twice I have filled a make up brush with brown eye shadow instead of coral blush. The squares just look the same to me, until I see my cheeks are streaked with saddle brown instead of desert rose. (Apologies to readers for whom the nuances of make up colors may be a bit too slight to follow my thread. Visual reference below. The color in the middle - not on the left - is what we lovelies are usually going for on the apples of our cheeks).
It appears the world has gone grey for me over the last fourteen days. It's been a slow darkening, but it is very real. Two weeks ago I found the shell of my sweet 82-year old mother curled up peacefully on the couch in her living room. She was not there. Just that faithful carrier of her spirit, lifeless and cold to the touch...but dressed, as always, in a magnificent splash of color.
She was never garish or flashy in her wardrobe choices - never. Just adorned in the way that always caused the world around her to turn and take notice. Until her very last breath. How she wound up moving in a circle of big love with such monochromatic people is beyond me.
Just take a look at us...zero in on the color. There is my mama.
Her beautiful spirit abides in every single one of us. She made sure of that with a lifetime of inclusion, acceptance, faithfulness, unconditional love, and a rather enormous dose of desserts.
But the color...
I fear it is lost forever.