the blue.
liz lamoreux
gearhart, oregon . february, 2009
the blue sky peeks in at me as i sit here, still in blue flannel pajamas, collar softly brushing my neck, and thick socks; a quilt someone's someone made years ago tucked around me. the childhood taste of cheerios and milk still resting in my mouth and the smell of both in the air. the "letting go" candle burns on the table beside me as millie sleeps to the sound of the heater kicking on and blowing its whirring warm air around us. i stare back at the sky through the slits. i stare back at the reaching toward the blue pine and let the whirring thoughts rest for a moment. the thoughts rest for just a moment as i breathe in and try to focus only on the way the breath moves around my heart and through my body from my toes to my crown. i focus on this breath and the blue and i close my eyes. i close my eyes as the salted water arrives and i try to hold onto the space. with each breath, i try to hold onto the space.