In the ‘50’s we all lived in black and white, marching in step with each other, our lawns making us ashamed we weren’t more perfectly matched.
We didn’t know it but we were waiting for the 60’s, that time of candied heart love and daffodil embroidered clothes.
We got more refined, less cluttered in the 70’s but kept a mellowed down pink turned taupe, having grown too cool for pastels.
But little did we know the permed haired, gaudy colors would leap out at us in the 80’s, an overdone shiny world, trying hard to find something lost, but never known.
Relief came with the 90’s, calming us down with normal colors, not too bright, just right, giving us hope we were getting better.
But around the century’s corner lurked the black and white intel world, a mystery that was inexplicably mingled with blood, too terrible to imagine, only finding a reprieve with a safer, mutely colored world, diverse and reassuring.
The 20-teens got even more comfortable, washed with seeming inclusion, ignoring the faint cries from the earth and its creatures.
Then 2016 rolled in and the world erupted, leaking and oozing, quickly covering the humans and their earth colors with grey, seeping into black. Warning us of nature’s revolution lying in wait.
2020 and the world is the color of fear, yellow searching for red fear. But as we wait, hiding inside, the earth quietly begins to pulse, the trees suddenly bulging with the need to blossom, as all the creatures sigh in turn, hopeful, waiting to begin again.
Brave world.
Written in isolation from Bloomington, Indiana as the Coronavirus 19 took over the world. March 25, 2020
