Mom’s eyes are blue. When Elton John wrote his song “Blue Eyes” in the early 1980’s, I wondered if he was writing about eyes like Mom’s. He describes them “like a deep blue sea on a blue, blue day” and “like a clear blue sky.” He told of “blue eyes laughing in the sun, laughing in the rain.” That’s Mom for certain.
In color psychology, blue is the color of trust, responsibility, and peace. It also suggests loyalty and integrity. Blue is reliable, confident, and stable. It symbolizes trust, loyalty, wisdom, confidence, intelligence, faith, and truth. I could easily use all of those words to describe Mom.
The color blue has always attracted Mom’s attention. Mom collected blue and white china. She was always on the lookout for new pieces at antique stores. Most of her pieces were cups and saucers, but she did find an occasional dinner plate. She liked all styles and companies and graphics. Some were old and others were just “pretty,” she’d say. She had display shelves built just so she could enjoy them.
When Mom and Dad built their house in Clarkesville in 1977, Mom used blue, yellow, green, brown, and orange as her color palette. The spare bedroom had wallpaper with blue birds and Mom put up blue sheer curtains so we called it the blue room. The music room also had blue curtains and a blue grass cloth wallpaper. Although I didn’t love to practice the piano, I liked being in the music room. I guess blue is a favorite of mine, too.
Mom’s eyes aren’t as vibrant in color or alertness as they used to be. Many days they are closed for twenty plus hours, and when they try to open, they are somewhat matted and cloudy. We have used several different allergy pills and eye drops hoping to help clear up the matting. The eye drops we try to use only make her mad – she doesn’t like them at all – and she’ll only submit to the allergy pills when she’s in an amiable mood. Thankfully, she’ll tolerate a bit of coconut oil on her eyelashes which softens the crustiness. After a few minutes, we can try to get if off her eyelashes very gently.
Mom likes to wink to communicate. She’s always winked at me from across the room when she needed to share a secret. With a certain tilt of her head, she still communicates that way. As a teenager and young adult, she’d wink and nod at me to give me confidence. She could encourage me from the audience with this simple movement. I do it, too, almost subconsciously. When I’m playing the piano and I see someone across the sanctuary, I wink instead of wave. I find myself winking and smiling at strangers and I wonder what they must think. Perhaps I am a flirt just like Mom.
Mom has blue eyes. Although they are fading, they are still my favorites.
