When I see periwinkles in bloom a sigh of pleasure escapes my lips and I’m filled with joy. The color attracts me and if I believed in such things I’d think I had been a bee in another life. A honey bee, naturally, because I’m so very sweet.
A woman at work has a periwinkle blue car and every time I see it, I smile. So it is no wonder that yesterday, when the president of my company was in the lobby and I came around the corner, I screeched to a halt. The president normally wears white, button-down shirts, or white button-down shirts with a very light striping. But this was a solid, bold, attractive blue. The vice-president of sales, also in the lobby, said, “Blue? You are wearing a blue shirt?”
The president looked down as if he’d only just become aware the shirt was blue. “What is wrong with blue?”
“Oh,” I said, “that is not just a blue shirt. That is a periwinkle blue shirt. Such a beautiful color and it makes people seem exceptionally witty and charming when they wear it.”
“Periwinkle blue?” the vice-president of sales echoed, one eyebrow shooting up his forehead.
The president gave a twitter of nervous laughter. “Okay, periwinkle blue. You can call me ‘Perry” for short.”
A short pause of no more than two heartbeats followed before the vice president of sales barked out a choked, “How about ‘Winkle’ instead?”
For some reason my “fight or flight” instinct kicked in. I ran up the stairs and hid in my new cubicle. Sometimes one must accept the benefits of silence mixed with absence.