Joanne and the Blue Plate

Learning to Love Blue Again

My relationship with the color blue is complicated. Cobalt blue, in particular, I sometimes find smothering because I grew up tangled in that tone, and carry many heavy memories rolled inside its luxurious hue.

As my father loved the darker shades of blue, our household naturally became ever more saturated in those colors over the course of my childhood. Blue couch, rugs, navy blue sheets, glass vases, candlestick holders, Saratoga Springs sparkling water bottles, blue glass plates and even cobalt-blue handled silverware! If it could be found in cobalt blue, it was . . . .

Blue, thick and clinging as evening shadows—I simply could not appreciate it anymore! I was over the dazzle and dimmed out of my mind. I wanted to banish that dark gleaming tint from every corner of my life.

Until one day, a good family friend came over and made a scrumptious dinner, and then helped me to wash the dishes afterwards. Joanne was first friends with my mother, and even after her passing still came over at times to cook our family her signature feast of steak with Adobo spice, refried beans, and fresh avocado slices with lemon juice and salt.

And she forever changed my eyes with her wonderstruck admission:

Out of Azure

Relinquish the sponge, 
I urge her.

No need to imperil fingers 
to pruning, not since 
Josephine Cochran 
showcased her 
mechanical dishwasher 
at the 1893 
Columbian Exposition.

But Joanne beams shyly, 
whispering,
"I've never washed 
a blue plate before."

Something inside me startles 
and cracks at her admission,
eyes filtering sudden cerulean
inexplicable cobalt glories

As the scratched disc of glass
cradled in her worn palms shifts 
into a jeweled shard of midnight—
a showcase of sapphirine skies.

Joanne freed the caged blue spectrum in my heart with her wondering eyes, and I will forever be grateful for that!

I don’t own a cobalt blue plate today, but I scoured my home for a blue bounty for this picture: a giant gem paperweight and stone apple from my father, a delicate flower pin that belonged to my grandmother Nancy Anne, and a gleaming fiber optic marble and shining stones that make me smile.

Is there a color closely entwined with your own life?

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