The Colour Blue.

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"And in the end, they lived."
I had just finished reading my 6 year old Anne a bedtime story. My blonde haired, blue eyed, freckled little sister had already fallen asleep. This was the usual. I read Anne a story to fall asleep to since my mom is always passed out somewhere she shouldn't be.. I remember I turned the lamp off, and went back down the dark hallway, to my own bedroom.

Our house was often dark, as we struggled to make ends meet and couldn't always afford all our bills. We were living off one income, after all. Not to say we weren't looked after, my mom did great most of the time. She was there as much as she could be for me and Anne, even if that wasn't much. Between the drinking and the weird parties in weirder neighbourhoods.

My mother spent her evenings, and nights, and mornings in AJs pub down the road, leaving me and Anne alone to find our own comfort.

I remember this one night; it was blowing like crazy, the autumn storms always got the best of us in November. Poco, the family mutt didn't care much for it either. The blinds rattled out to the house as they chatted amongst themselves; the house and the shutters.

It was hard to get to sleep in a house like that, but Anne found it soothing. I always thought being a heavy sleeper was dangerous, and being able to sleep in any situation. I lay in bed, pondering at the ceiling. I watch the branches beat on my skylight window, I wonder if it hurt her, or if she too, was angry with the world. I thought about the bees, and where they would be right then, protected from the storm. And how the world would fall apart without their small, yellow bodies.

I smother myself in my dark green duvet; Bury my face in one of many plaid patches that have been sewn on over the years. It's warm and comforting touch sent me to sleep.

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