During the simple cadence of the evening I find peace in the discordance. Amelia’s shrieks—refusal to brush her pearly whites—mixed with the heater’s hum fills me with a simple luxury: homeliness. I know the walls of our apartment don’t shine gold. I know the structure of our abode isn’t built upon sapphire stones or ruby bricks. But the haphazard décor—each shouting to be noticed—fills a silent niche.
I could not be a painting on a wall. However, I can appreciate its splashes of white in an ever-changing tirade of navy-, robin’s-egg-, lavender-blue. Sometimes, when the sun sets & my depression rises, I let the colors talk for me. Azure says more than I could, but its presence next to the egg-shell holds a place within me that only the silent permanence of colors can.
Do we know color, or do we find reassurance in the fact that we decide our truths? My green is not your green, but that does not make it less green. I feel if we say universal color we wouldn’t be able to accommodate its truth. If we lament at the blue screen of death on a computer then how could we handle the blue of the cosmos? Maybe we couldn’t, and that’s ok.
We’re human, not immortal. I believe our efforts to find the universal—the truths of ourselves & our neighbors—is enough. Because if I find one, I find myself. & vice versa.
With love to my mom, dad, sister, wife, daughter, & cat