A Spot of Blue

So I’ve got this fuzzy blue yarn sticking to my black jacket, and I’ve decided to let it ride. I was having breakfast with my bestie best a few weeks ago, and she was using this particular yarn in a creative project. Some of the blue fuzz stuck to me when she hugged me. She tried to neaten me up and take it off my lapel, but I nabbed it and stuck it back on the front pocket. I like the slightly messy, totally silly, random reminder that somebody who loves me left her mark, kind of like the baby urp badge of honor but without the lingering slightly sour smell.

Blue fuzz. I’m a Sesame Street girl, so I grew up with a fondness for fuzzy blue critters. If Grover does not make you smile and feel like skipping across the room, then I really do not know how to help you.

You don’t have to skip, but I recommend that you do.

Because yes, life is heartbreaking and horrifying. It’s scary and people can be cruel and selfish and entitled, refusing to clean up after themselves or put their grocery carts back. There’s death and illness and all manner of hostility and ignorance and crazy. And there is still goodness and silliness and yoga, smiles and hugs and laughter, dark chocolate covered almonds, champagne and baby giggles and butterflies, and the occasional art project that leaves love all over the map.

Somewhere in the course of today I hugged that blue fuzz onto somebody else. And it’s okay. Because some things are better shared, and blue fuzz is definitely one of those things.