Summer Blue

The weather has finally warmed up enough for Cal to go outside and really give some attention to his home's backyard patio. He dusts off the slightly-wilted wicker furniture, remembering so recently when it was adorned with icicles. He checks inside the grill to make sure he hasn't left old and rotting charcoal from last season in it. He smiles as he works. If the temperature can keep above 65, Cal hopes to invite some close friends over for a cookout on Sunday. He hasn't seen many of them in several weeks, the cold being their main excuse for not visiting.

Cal grabs his broom from its spot next to the outdoor kiln and begins to sweep the patio. As he pushes the first gathering toward the edge of the granite flooring, he notices a small pile of bright blue powder on the grass, just beyond the patio's brick steps leading down to the lawn. The mysterious mound is only a few inches tall, not much bigger than a pyramid-shaped softball. To Cal, it looks like discarded, sugary contents of perhaps a couple dozen blue-flavored Pixie Stix. He quietly curses whatever neighborhood child decided to pull this strange prank on him.

Out of fear of the sugary substance attracting ants, Cal decides he shouldn't spray the pile with water or knock it asunder with the broom. He retrieves a dust pan from the spot by the kiln and begins to gather the blue powder onto it. However, Cal notices that the blue dust has a delicious smell, much more appetizing than merely sugar. He stops gathering the dust onto the pan.

Squatting before the mound, Cal touches a finger to his tongue and then drags it through the blue substance. He brings it to his nose and sniffs. The powder smells almost like a mix of roasted garlic and a robust cheese, like from a fine pasta dish. He inspects it, marveling at its perfect deep ocean color. It doesn't even have a hint of a dirt speck in it. Cal knows that he shouldn't, but he cannot help himself as he touches his blue-powdered finger to his tongue. The taste is unbelievably good, filling a void Cal didn't know existed in the world before.

After several more finger-to-powder-to-tongue transfers, Cal has to force himself to stop. He feels like he has eaten a giant helping of some savory, pan-seared Italian dish - Cal's favorite kind of food, but he is still not full. Shaking off a submerged feeling, he springs to his kitchen and fetches a small Tupperware. At first he is careful to not get dirt mixed in with the Blue as he scoops it into the plastic container, but then Cal notices that the Blue somehow repels the dirt. It remains pure as he gets every last speck into the container. He places a lid over it and carries the plastic tub to his kitchen's counter top. As he sets it down and walks away, he resists the urge to grab a spoon. The smell seems to seep through its plastic enclosure.

Cal sleeps deep that night and dreams of the things that he will serve his friends at the cookout on Sunday. The Blue will make every bite delicious, but he knows that he'll have to wait until after sundown to serve them, outside and by candlelight, so as to hide the strange color that might discourage their appetites. But once they have sampled the Blue, they will all be swimming in the same waters as one. Cal knows that his friends will stay with him after that because the Blue inside of him tells him that they will.

Cal dreams of this eternal togetherness as another pile of Blue crawls into place on his backyard lawn, beginning its not-very-long wait. This mound is slightly larger than the first one, and a darker shade of blue. It will soon be joined by many more Blues, each of them necessary for all the new friends that Cal will serve over the long summer to come.