“The sky is blue, Child.” Said the Grandmother to the little girl in her lap. “The sky is blue.” But what about the sunrise, thought the granddaughter as she wondered about the old woman’s words. But as she started to raise the question she stopped because the grandmother was no longer listening.
“You know, the sky is blue!” said the excited young boy to his playmates, as they ran around the yard playing ball, talking amongst themselves. They all agreed that this was so.
Late into the night, the girls giggled amongst themselves, snuggled into blankets a whisper could be heard, “the sky is blue.”
The teenagers laughed and gossiped and bickered but throughout it all they stuck together because they all agreed on one thing, the sky was definitely blue.
They stuck together, those blue-sky people, because even if others knew that the color of the sky was blue, they didn’t understand its importance.
And they had children, and as they rocked them they sang, “The sky is blue.”
One little girl had a question, “Daddy, what about when the sky turns pink and purple and pretty?”
“That doesn’t matter sweetheart, what matters is the sky is blue.” He says gently as he sends her off to bed.
“But what about the clouds? And days when the sky turns orange or into a icky grey?” she pushes.
“Darling, the sky is blue, remember that.” He whispers as he strokes her hair and tucks her in.
The little girl falls asleep and dreams of blue skies.
She grows up a perfect blue-sky child.
And then one day she meets someone new.
And when she tells him the sky is blue, he asks her a question. “What else do you know about the sky?”
And she is at a loss. Because all she knows is of the blue sky. And that the sky is blue.
So she steps back and takes a look as sees that yes, sometimes the sky is blue, but look at the birds, the horizon, the sunsets and the stars, the sky is so much more than blue, and she is forced to reconsider everything she has ever known.