Grandma

"Grandma, what is the color of knowing?"

Shifting in her seat, she spoke quietly, "If a color could be knowing I think it would be blue, a deep violet inky blue. One that wraps you in the night's sky, the stars twinkling and wolves howling nearby. Can you feel that baby, I feel safe, what do you feel?

"Grandma, what is the color of love?"

She thought a moment, chewing her tongue, her milky eyes gazing far off into the nothingness. "If a color could be love, mmm I'd have to say it would be black, all the colors mixed together, the mysterious unknown like the soil of the earth. Things grow here, the wisdom in decomposing, the possibility in the void, and the sureness of footing. That is love.--

Yea, that is love."

"Grandma, who decides what is beautiful?"

"What is beautiful? Well, now that depends on who you ask my friend. Some people forget how to feel in color, they are stuck defending their mistakes or their fears, or the misunderstandings of who they once were. What I know inside is that everything looks better when I look for the color, the feel of it."

"Grandma, will you help me learn how to feel in color?"

A smile crept upon her face, "yes my dear, yes. It starts with the feeling in your beating heart, tell me, what color is that beating?"