There is a boy in blazer out with his grandmother, sister and mum
He looks glum
I wonder if he is being bullied at boarding school
They sit across from us in the same dining room
My mind weaves a story that is all to soon leaving me sad
Then I realise that I’m doing what I so often do
Knitting a blanket in the colour of blue
On the way here we passed a truck full of cows
Her head over the tailgate, soft eyes, long ears
The gentle beast stared into my soul
I presumed her on her way to her death, her flesh sold as meat
Carved and packaged locked beneath plastic, to be consumed by mindless shoppers who choose
Without ever considering those eyes
Looking at you, into you
But then I realised I was at it again
Knitting a blanket of blue
My mind is a melancholy pool
And every scenario develops it’s own hue
Of blue
Before I flip it
Perhaps that cow was on her way to greener pastures, a fresh horizon, perhaps she was even excited
It’s difficult to tell with cows
Perhaps that boy was simply sulking, missing his friends and not enjoying the company of women
Perhaps I can shrug off this blanket
And let the sun warm my shoulders instead
Stories in my head
Are not true
There is no need to be carrying
A blanket of blue
*Anyone elses mind geared towards melancholy? I seem to have always tended to weave the gentle, the sad and the lonely tale when I’m people watching. I pull myself together these days and flip the story when I realise what I’m doing. There is enough true sadness in this world without me making up more fairy tales.
Speaking of fairy tales. I think that is where I began knitting blankets of blue. I loved fairy tales and read so many, but the books of my childhood were Arabian Nights, Hans Christian Anderson and the Brothers Grimm. They were Rudyard Kipling and The Just So stories. Not a lot of laughter and always a deeper message. Thank goodness for Enid Blyton later on, or I would have been a thoroughly melancholy child indeed!
If this is you too – and you often snuggle down in a blanket of blue, remember the story in our head can always be changed. Watch too, how your mood lifts and swings when you do. It’s quite surprising how often we do this in life, not just with strangers but our own heavy thoughts.
The blanket of blue can be left neatly folded on the couch, it does not need to come out into the world with us.
So why leave it on the chair at all? I have to admit there are times when I thoroughly enjoy pulling it over my head – there is something about melancholy that is also deeply felt, anchoring and calming. Especially in a world that tells us we have to be bright and happy all the time.
Blue blankets are conforting, but not for everyday pondering.
Have a lovely day X
