Tuesday Chatter by Darlinleo

How is your work going for ‘Local Color’? Want to workshop? Have any questions about the contest?

Brigit's Flame Writing Community

Growing up beneath Tennessee skies, surrounded by a multitude of waterways, I thought I knew the color blue well. Blue can be frothy, almost as white as the clouds on a bright April morning, or deep and temperamental, nearly black, just before winds stir up a poisonous yellow-green that means tornadoes will soon start grabbing at the land.

I thought I knew every trick of that color, until an afternoon in May 1991 when my husband and I crossed the sand of Coronado Beach and stood there, goggle-eyed, speechless. We had finally encountered blue.

Blue is spiritual.

We lived a mile off Loma Point in San Diego for three months, narrowly surviving on bare minimum military pay and young love. Our diet was mostly 3-for-$1 burritos so that we could put a little money toward touring the city, the suburbs, and the coastline whenever possible. I walked from work…

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