The Colour Blue.

Us

                                        ***

My mother was a beautiful woman. Intelligent and creative. Long red hair and amazing hazel eyes. Freckles kissed her whole body. I used to be jealous of her beauty. She seemed so effortlessly flawless, and quick to point out mine. In the sun, she would glow. Radiate her yellow happiness onto everyone around her. She helped me see the beauty in the uniqueness of others.

My mother, like me, struggled a lot in the cool seasons. So restless and blue you could see it in her eyes. She even went through weird spells of time where she was hardly even herself. Just plain old mean. She broke Anne's arm last year for feeding Poco her table scraps. She felt terrible after, and did everything she could to make it up to her for lashing out. Anne was treated to a pink cast, and then purple, and then baby blue. She got it signed by all her friends. Anne pretended it didn't hurt and she didn't mind but it was all a lie. I could always tell when Anne was lying. it didn't make up for missing the soccer season.

Our car was a 2002 Chevrolet. Grey exterior, beige stained seats on the inside. The smell of stale cigarettes never left that car, no matter how much cleaning was done to it, and so there was always at least a dozen air fresheners hanging around the rear view mirror at all times.

My neighbourhood then was quaint. Quiet. It qualified. For a family like mine. My home wasn't far from my high school, and Anne's elementary. It was all so perfect. Lynn's cafe sat on the corner. I would stop there with my tip money to buy Anne a milkshake every Wednesday. And every time she would get a strawberry one, extra blended, (She didn't care for the strawberry pieces inside). No whipped cream, it only dulled the flavour. Anne knew what she wanted. And didn't settle for less, just like my mom.

I had bad anxiety back then. My palms were always sweaty, my heart never stopped pounding out of my chest. It wasn't fun; living on the edge of your seat. It felt like I was drowning, the way the world was so quiet and my mind was so loud. I was never really there. I was robbed of my happiness when high school hit. No time for friends, or Anne, or mom. Or myself. I felt so lonely my stomach ached all the time, and so did Anne's. I wasn't so good at the lullaby that mom used on is when we were feeling sick, but I always did my best to help. No child should have to feel like that, no adult, either.

***