Feeling Blue

For the Trifecta weekly world challenge: “blue”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” she’d tell her daughter on her dutifully daily calls. She didn’t want to tell her that she felt blue. Though she was sure her daughter could hear it in her tone, anyway. She could hear it herself. In how her voice was gravelly, rising up as if from deep beneath stagnant water.

The only time when she wasn’t blue was when for a moment she’d actually forget that she couldn’t just get in her car to drive up for the margarine she’d forgotten on her weekly shopping expedition with her caregiver. In that moment when she’d start to look for the car keys, then remember.

She’d look out the window at her car sleeping in the driveway. Sometimes she’d be tempted to just get in and drive off and hope that she wouldn’t have another accident. Hope no cops would stop her to ask for her license which had been revoked after her last collision.

She couldn’t bring herself to sell the car yet. She’d go out and start it up just so the battery wouldn’t go dead, but keeping her balance down the steps to the driveway was becoming more of a challenge. As trapped as she now was in her own house, she was trapped in her aging body; she’d sit on the edge of her bed and lose herself in wonderment, examining the brown spots on her hands, her veins.

No she wasn’t blue. Blue was that more evanescent feeling, when it might just be a rainy dull day. What she felt was despair. The kind that knocks the wind out of you so all you want to do is lie down on your bed.

Link up with Sandra’s Fiction Writing Workshop Hop! 



About Sandra

Author;editor of The Woven Tale Press at thewoventalepress.net; mother; weaver
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to Feeling Blue

  1. “Blue was that more evanescent feeling, when it might just be a rainy dull day”
    You put this so accurately.

  2. Annabelle says:

    Lack of mobility is a really hard thing to cope with, particularly if it’s expected to be permanent. I could really feel the despair here.

  3. Ah! Irreversible change is hard-hard to swallow at first. You have captured it well. 🙂

  4. Your eloquence on this subject always blows me away.

    Yet, I have to admit, terrible as it is to watch your mother’s slow decline, I’m a bit envious. My mother never reached her 50th birthday.

    You give me great incentive to have a Plan for if/when I reach this stage of life.

  5. nelle says:

    Despair, yes. I hope I go out with my fingers typing.

  6. This reminds me of my grandma. I agree with the distinction that loss of mobility is despair, not feeling blue. You convey her helplessness/sadness well.

  7. Imelda says:

    This is poignant and beautifully written.


  8. Arnel says:

    Very nicely written. Draws you in to the point you fear your own mortality! Well done.

  9. Amy Morgan says:

    Such a level of sadness here and the despair she feels at her confinement is so tangible. My mother had to abruptly stop driving because of a traumatic brain injury, and she was fully aware of why she couldn’t drive, but it didn’t make it any easier. I would offer to let her drive in an empty parking lot or on the roads of the cemetary when no one was around but she declined – managing to express to me over time that it would be too painful to feel the freedom again for such a short period of time.

  10. I remember the day my grandma failed her driving test and lost her license. It was as if the air had been let out. I can only imagine feeling that trapped and powerless. Your words conveyed that desperation well.
    Thanks for linking up with us again. We hope to see you back tomorrow for the new challenge.

Comments are closed.