colours of colours

I was feeling pretty crumby as I walked back to my house this morning. My brain kept on looping some twisted version of "This is Your Life!" and it wasn't exactly inspirational viewing. Even the iTunes-sorted music piped into my ears sounded like the soundtrack to a very sad movie.

Just I was about to completely wrap myself up in a cozy blanket of self-pity I came across the lilacs. Actually, I wasn't paying attention and I practically walked right into the bush. The blooms were hanging low and half-way into the sidewalk. The flowers were still wet from the rain and their pale purple blueness was shocking against all the miserable grey. They smelled like rain and like the word 'lilac'. Sweet, cold and fresh. In my overzealous sniffing I had covered my nose and mouth in rain water. A very nice sensation, I highly recommend it.

Now, I don't want to get too poetic here, but it was an incredible moment. I immediately felt better. In a very distant way this sort of annoyed me. As in - really, stopping to smell the flowers actually works? Christ, I am a simple person. But whatever, I really needed to feel better.

I resisted the urge to pluck the flowers and headed home, trying desperately to memorize the scent. I was feeling really quite wonderful and had visions of myself spring cleaning and baking cookies once I walked in the door. But then I saw red. Literally. Just a few feet of red, peeking into the back lane as I got close to home. Red's a big colour and it chased the lavender and rain water out of my mind. The sadness returned.

Tonight I'm going to pick a few lilacs and keep them by my bed. No one will miss a them, I'll only take a few.