Color Me Rainbow
|Photo courtesy of cohdra via morguefile.com|
On most days I wake up knowing what color I am.
Oh, I don’t mean skin color. Count on me to look like chunk light tuna, even after a day at the beach. No, I mean, color. . .you know, the whole how-am-I-feeling kind of color. Today I’ve been unable to grab the right hue from the box.
Yesterday marked my wedding anniversary to the guy who, even after 31 years, still makes my heart beat in overdrive. I’m sunshine-yellowy-bright when I think of him. But concerns for my friends in the Midwest have colored me gray and midnight blue; the devastation wrought by the weather there causes my insides to curl up like a clenched fist. That gets me thinking about Japan, and then a rewind to recent disasters around the globe.
Now I’m murky slush.
But wait. . .a nice phone chat with my daughter followed by a fun time at the ball park with my other daughter, and a happy conversation with my hubby about our son and. . .color me hibiscus red and carnation pink, because I’m all smiles again.
So what color am I?
Has my color always been so mercurial, or is this just part of the onset of middle age along with laugh lines and gray roots? Am I making excuses for hormonal mood swings, or have I simply reached a golden age where I’ve given myself permission to feel what I feel when I feel it? No keeping the tears or fears or smiles or laughter under wraps, just letting the colors melt out of the box in a sort of rainbow flood.
Well, there it is. I just figured out my color for today. Rainbow. Cool, huh?
Maybe this whole middle-aged thing isn’t so bad after all.
Til next time –
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