Markers

I remember when I was in second grade I got my first set of real markers- they were the Crayola Bold 8-Color set. I remember thinking they were pretty markers, but hating the colors they made on paper- the red wasn’t red, it was bittersweet red; the yellow wasn’t yellow, it was marigold; the green wasn’t green, it was turquoise. While these colors would appeal to me now, I can tell you that coloring things in marigold, turquoise and bittersweet red did not make you popular in the second grade.

I also remember that this was the same year I got my first chapter book: Ramona Quimby, Age 8. I remember sitting down and not knowing exactly how to read a chapter book, so I picked a chapter that sounded interesting, somewhere in the middle, and began reading. My dad laughed at me, I remember, and taught me that you have to start at the beginning, even with chapter books.

Today I was walking through my old neighborhood- old meaning last year or so. I lived about a mile away from where I do now, and I haven’t really walked there since I’ve moved. I had the girls with me, and it was one of those beautiful fall evenings, where the setting sun cast long shadows of the trees, the leaves golden yellow in the light, the breeze somewhat crisp but enjoyable. We walked past our old place, Jola and I, and memories of chasing her through the neighboring yards flood my memory. At once, the feeling my stomach dropping to my knees comes back, at the thought of her being gone for good, or hit by a car. I instantly feel the anxiety I used to feel as I would come home, praying that no one had left the backyard door open and she had gotten out; frantically checking my cell phone to make sure I hadn’t missed any unknown calls that may have left a message about her whereabouts. I do not miss these feelings.

This minor flashback reminded me of where I was, and where I am today… it reminded me of the markers of life, the things that let you know you are in a new season or chapter. I would be able to tell you I was in a new chapter since that last place, but how do I know that? I know because those feelings are gone, they are replaced with other feelings… in a way, they feel like colors. Different colors for different seasons.

If I could, I would write a chapter book of my life in colors. And if I was using my Crayola Bold 8-Color set, I would color my last few years like this:

Chapter 1: Copper. This chapter would encompass the first two years or so of working at Kaiser, working on my Master’s and really just getting my twenties under my belt. I think of copper, and I think of sepia toned pictures and fond yet somewhat faded memories. This chapter of my life is a wonderfully fond memory that I am proud to have but do not want to return to re-play.

Chapter 2: Bittersweet Red. This chapter would outline my stay at Casa Kearney. While there were many good things about this chapter, it was bittersweet in that it held many beginnings, and many ends in regards to relationships and ideas. I think I did some of my best growing up there- while it’s close to a beautiful vivid red, there is something bittersweet and flat about the color that leaves the taste in my mouth I can’t forget, and don’t always want to remember.

Chapter 3: Raspberry. This chapter would briefly describe my relationship, but detail the first four months or so of post relationship. Post-relationship has been hard yet amazingly worth it, rich and fulfilling in deep, painful ways. When I think of the color this marker left, I think of juicy stains from fresh, delicious fruit. That’s how I think of the relationship and break-up at this point in my life… deep, juicy, beautiful with a hint of disappointment that the color wasn’t exactly what I was hoping it would be. **Please note, friend, that bittersweet red was NOT used in the breakup chapter.

Chapter 4: Marigold. The Marigold chapter is currently being written, right this very moment. I would use this color to describe my life now, as it is. The sunlight dripping on the golden fall leaves, the mini butternut squash I found growing as I pulled my garden, my puppy learning to behave, the comfort of living in a home, of having good, true friends… these all are reminiscent of what I call the ‘golden hour’- that time of day when the sun is setting and the lighting is bright and perfect and soft and golden, for about an hour (hence the term ‘golden hour’… get it?). my life right now, I feel, is in the golden, marigold hour of time.

Chapter 5: Turquoise. This chapter has yet to be written, but an outline has been made, a story board has been constructed. This chapter will also be a deep, vivid color- not quite blue, not quite green, not really a color you can use to describe many things. This chapter will contain my new start as a therapist, my continued growth as a woman of God, learning to live in the marigold of Dahlia St… and of course, the new man that I know will come into my life- (I also chose turquoise because it reminded me of the color of the shirt the cute guy at the gym was wearing when he talked to me) :)