Bluer Than Blues Poem by Cristina M. Moldoveanu

The last gift from my father was B.B. King's blues on CD.
A week after my father's death my mother handed me
one of the towels she bought as a gift for the guests
coming to the funeral, as it is customary. This towel
was not different; it was blue like all the others and
was left by chance in our house or maybe they forgot
to give it away. It landed in my closet nine years ago.
It was not preserved as a memory. Every day when I
go to the bathroom I wash my face with a bit of soap
and a little water and I remember how my father used
to say when I was a child that I wash myself like the cat
does, cleaning only the tip of my nose and disregarding
the rest. We both smiled. Those days he used to tease
me many times about small things like that and I could
not imagine that all my colors will turn blue some day.

Yesterday I saw that towel hanging in my bathroom and
I remembered my father's words and the happy times we
spent together. Something startled in my heart. I cleared
my eyes again and again, I dried them with my blue towel
while the words of an old love song came into my mind:
'a little bit of soap will never wash away my tears'. That
was one of the songs my father kept in his collection and
I realized that the blue towel has its own soulful voice.
But most of all it borrowed my tears and my smile, day
after day. How strange it is to see that this towel is still
blue, still young, as if time had gentle hands washing my
pain away, wiping my tears, saving my best memories.
The last gift from my father was B.B. King's blues on CD.