You came downstairs today, earlier than I anticipated from quiet time, with paper in hand, eager to show me a picture you had drawn.
And the joy in your face was more important than the fact that you had come downstairs far too early.
Instead of sending you back upstairs until quiet time was officially over, I invited you to bring your new crayons downstairs to color with me.
We sat, pulled out clean sheets of crisp paper, and spread the crayons before us.
From a sea of colors, with each crayon you chose, you asked me to read you the names.
Names that were more than just the words on the colored wrappers.
Names that bring to mind stories that I will share with you one day.
The color of my childhood home…a home that held tremendous sadness, but also immeasurable joy. The home in which I learned about trust, loss, love, and survival.
The color of the profusely-blooming vine behind the house we lived in before you were born. Your daddy and I sat beneath those vines, on still summer nights, and dreamed of you.
Daddy’s mommy’s favorite color. One day I will tell you about the rich velvets that she wore…cerulean, turquoise, violet. I will tell how those jewel tones mirrored the vibrancy of her soul.
The color of the sea where Daddy and I were married. One day I will tell you how marrying Daddy brought me a peace that I’d never known before. I will tell you that in those moments, the fear that I had carried around for my entire life was washed away.
The color of the Bleeding Heart plants that flanked my grandparents’ home…the home that held only happiness, acceptance, and love.
Outer Space Blue.
The color of my grandfather’s tie…the length of silk with which he taught me the Windsor Knot…one of the many lessons taught to me by the man who stepped into the role of father when I lost my own.
Asparagus and Gold.
The color of my mother’s eyes. The eyes that reassured me that things would be okay. The eyes that have never let me down.
One day, you’ll pull crayons out of a similar box for your children and they’ll look at you, waiting to hear your stories.
May your pile of crayons be huge and colorful…and the stories you share, happy ones.
With a heart brimming with love and dreams of helping you to color your childhood,