Day 3 – What color are you grateful for?
I am grateful for the color pink…
…the cotton candy bubble gum saccharine sweet pink of the party dresses I insisted on wearing, the only special occasion being that at the time I was young enough to believe a little bit of satin ribbon, some lace, a sprinkle of sequins, and a puffy tulle skirt were enough to magically transform me into a graceful princess. I felt pretty, and even when looking directly at my reflection in the mirror, I saw right past the unkempt hair, messy face, and dirty bare feet. I only saw a beautiful princess in a beautiful gown, and I walked like a princess, and talked like a princess, and refused to let anyone try to tell me that I wasn’t a princess.
…the soft pastel pink of the receiving blanket that wrapped my firstborn, my little girl, who was placed into my arms and suddenly I was magically transformed again, this time into a mother. As a mother, however, I still saw my reflection in the mirror, but the unkempt hair, messy face, and dirty bare feet were all I saw. I didn’t know how to walk or talk like a mother, and I have spent a lot of my mothering years allowing people to tell me I wasn’t doing it right.
…the little-girl pink that each of my daughters phased through, reminding me of my younger self, as they magically transformed from infants to toddlers to imaginative creatures who maneuvered through a fantasy world that they could sometimes share with one another but could not share with me. Not their fault, but mine.
…the robust pink of my sons’ cheeks upon awakening or after wrestling their imaginary foes, the pink flush of little-boy energy that adults envy but cannot capture.
…the excited sparkly pink of my children playing in the first snow of winter, bright eyes and bright pink nose and cheeks, their joyous giggles as they all build a snowman together, everyone eager to play and uninterested in arguing. The pink cheeks and noses as they take smiling sips of hot chocolate after helping to choose and cut down our Christmas tree.
…the healthy pink cheeks of my children recovering from illness and beginning to whine about boredom or hunger, which is absolutely fine because whining is a widely-recognized symptom of getting better.
…the welcome pink of my baby’s face and body as he oxygenates and replaces the terrifying blue and purple tint that signaled his respiratory failure.
…the ruddy pink of my husband’s neck when he returns from work, caused by the sunshine toasting his skin as he drives all around in his work truck, my sign that summer is on the way.