Black - the way I viewed the jaded world when I first awoke; unable to speak or move my right side. The medics thought anxiety, the doctors knew a stroke.
Red - the love I felt when you were strolled into my hospital room at just 14 days old. I knew I had to get better, so I could come home to watch your childhood begin to unfold.
Orange - is for the color of the pills I’ll now have to take forever. Make sure the blood stays thin so that this won’t happen to us again - ever.
Yellow is for the sunshine that warms your smiling blue-eyed face. You always keep me grounded when my mind begins to race.
Green is for unease. It’s the way I felt when they did the operation for my heart. But my sweet baby darling boy, this was just the start. It’s for the difficulty and pain of when my job came to an end, and when your daddy had to go away, and I lost my only friend.
Blue is for the line on that little test. Announcing you’d become a brother - and to me you are the best. We’d endure a pandemic before he’d make his grand entrance.
Purple is for who I am now, the pride of a survivor. I did this for you my precious boys, because I am your mother, and a fighter.
I love you.
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