I've been seriously working the color prompts. Like Blue, and Red, which I've posted here. But I'm at a complete stop now as I tried to write "Purple".
I stared at the white page. I wrote, "It was the color of....". Then I got no further. I closed my eyes and focused on that color, what that color meant, what does purple mean to me. But all I could picture were the purple-red bruises on my son's face. That's it. I could go no further. I could think of nothing else to use for that color. I could not get past that imagery.
I'm sure that a therapist (or my ex's new WIFE) would comment that that's an indication that I can't let go of the past in this case. Yes, no shit, duh, I know that. I know that because the painful truth is that there are days when I look in the mirror and I see my own face covered in the bruises that once marred his beautiful face. I'll stare, shake my head, look again and it'll still be there. Sometimes, it doesn't stop until I turn my head away and cry. I believe that this is because I feel like the only one who remembers, truly, the trauma that was inflicted that day. Perhaps it's because I was the only one living the day-to-day nightmare of it. Everyone around him appears to have forgiven her, or at least accepted her. That's their choice and their call. But I can't do either one, and I never will. Perhaps I'm holding a grudge because I'm Irish and "over dramatic" and a bitch and that's all there is to it.
Whatever the answer, "Purple" may never be written.