There is a blue room waiting for me. Its walls are filled with books and paintings, in the windowsill there are plants, on the floor lays a colourful woven mat. I open the door to the blue room and leave my suitcase and my purse in there after first opening my purse to get out a book, my knitting, a small gift for the host and hostess. An enjoyable evening is spent with the owners of the blue room - dinner with a glass of white wine, coffee and a sweet biscuit, fruits from the garden. We watch the news and then turn of the television to let Bang&Olufsen take over, and Beethoven, Bach, Schubert and Vivaldi mingle with our words - words of love and friendship, words of sharing, words of caring. Or quietness for reflection and reading.
I say goodnight and go back to the blue room, the room which is here waiting for me when I need a bed in the big city. I phone the man I love, and his voice and his words of everyday and of this is a special day because our souls meet across the long miles, follow me into my dreams.
The blue room is mine for a few nights every year. The blue is light and floating, calming, quiet, very different from the playful, sparkling blue which usually follows me. The blue in the blue room has become my colour of friendship, of piece and prayers.
Thanks Estrid and Sindre for opening your hearts and your home for me every time I need it.
