The color of memory

Red is the color of my true love's ...   No.  This is not a poem.  This is not about romantic love.  This is about maternal love.  Imperfect though that may be, since mothers are only human beings.   Memory is also imperfect too.  But I want to remember.  What do I remember? Red.  The color of your eyes in the hundreds of pictures I took of you as a child, since the flash always made your light eyes show up red. White. The color of your bathing trunks when you learned to swim at the YMCA pool.  Your dad and I took turns taking you.  I took pictures of your skinny little body as you laughed, getting out of the pool. Blue.  The color of your eyes, at least after you'd been awake for a while.  When you would first wake up your eyes were a very washed out gray. Orange.  Purple.  Green.  All colors you liked when they they were bright and attention getting. Orange was also the color of basketballs.  I can't see one without thinking of you.  You loved playing basketball.  We even got you a freestanding hoop when we lived in Bedford.  How many practices and games did we take you to?  How many camps? Purple was also the color of the the silly silky cylinder pillow that your grandmother got for you.  I took a silly picture of you with it on your head. Brown was the color of your hat when you worked at the steak house, as well as the color of the first hoodie that you wore to death. Red is the color of anger, right?  But I'm only angry when I get frustrated with the situation, with not understanding why you've dropped a wall between us.  A wall like a guillotine, chopping my heart in half.  Red is the color of blood.  The blood that we share.  The blood that I feel like I should be bleeding in gallons so that the world can see the pain that otherwise leaves no visible mark on me. Black is the color of words on a screen, in emails and texts that you do no answer; in cards and letters that I don't know if you've read.  The color of a powered down computer monitor or television.  How many of those in our lives and relationships? Black is the color of desolation.