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Kiss of Colors

A Look at Colors

By Savannah McCainPublished 6 years ago 5 min read
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Since I was forced from my mother's body (damaging her beyond repair she claims every year on my birthday), I had always loved colors. Every year my favorite colors will switch between greens, blues and purples. Even at the tender age of twenty plus years old, I still cannot decide what color is my favorite. Colors are not just little lights dancing in front of us. They are tools to help retain information, memories and emotions. Colors are not just about the rainbow, but in personality and in skin. Color means more than just lights. For years my journey in finding a favorite color has come to a standstill. My new goal is to find a color that I can call my own favorite like normal people.

For my first birthday, my parents decided I should be the luckiest child in the world, and have a Barney surprise party. I don't know how a surprise party would benefit a one-year-old, but you cannot judge them for trying. My Grandma's house was covered in purple and green, with children running around destroying everything. What once was a white, clean kitchen, was now a confetti, hot dog smelling kidsty. The children played and sung Barney songs while covered in colorful sugar. There was one who was not amused by any of this. And that was the birthday girl. She was not amused and would rather have been eating cake and watching cartoons, like a one-year-old should do. I'm not sure that’s the reason, but twenty-plus-year-old me would love to spend birthdays this way. To cheer one-year-old me up, I open my presents. Still not amused. Still counting down the hours until I am back in bed. Then I am given the biggest stuffed Barney I had ever seen. I was a tiny child, so everything seemed so big to me. The Barney did not have any talking features, and I'm sure it was a knock off version of the real Barney, but in that moment, this big stupid purple thing was my favorite thing in the world. When I am around purple, I feel warm. I remember the softness of every stuffed item that my dad gave me as a child, and I remember every pillow and blanket I own now. All covered in purple.

Up until I was able to make conscious decisions about my clothing choices, I was forced to wear greens and purples. I didn't mind the greens. Brown and green look great together. Around the age of nine, I started wearing more blue. I was convinced I was one of the boys and anything pink or pastel wasn't manly enough. I wanted to be manly. I had been in day camp for two years prior for every school break I had back then. I had become friends with the boys because unlike girls, boys weren't mean. So, I started to wear blacks and blues. I chose black and blue because even at nine I knew any other color combination on Howard meant you will either be jumped or killed. Neither was appealing to me. Blue was more appealing to my eyes. It was calming, cooling, and reminded me of the sky. I hadn't seen the ocean yet at this time. While I played baseball (tee-ball), I wore a bright yellow shirt that said “Cubs Care.” I didn’t like this shirt because it wasn’t masculine enough. Boys didn’t wear yellow where I was from unless you were a Kind or some other gang that claimed they were wearing “gold.” As I stood off to the side pretending to be working, I was hit in the eye with a fast coming ball. As I picked myself off the ground trying not to cry, I brushed it off. I told them I was ok and I didn’t feel a thing. That was a lie. It hurt like hell and I wanted to cry, but crying is not manly so I waited until I was alone to cry. My mom picked me up that day seeing my eyes closed and blue. As a mother, her first reaction is to assume abuse from the teenagers in charge of the younger kids. After that, she accused the kids of picking on me. Then finally after being a mom, she was told the truth. The truth satisfying her and on my way home I’m given a blue ice pack.

My favorite place as a child was my bedroom. No matter where I’ve gone, who I went with, and why I went there, my room was always waiting there for me. In my room there were stuffed animals everywhere. Bunnies mostly. My dad, someone who didn’t believe in celebrating Pagan holidays, still went out and bought me a stuffed rabbit. This came with a speech about Pagans and the rabbit goddess who laid eggs. By the time he went to jail, I had acquired about ten bunnies. All various colors. Mostly all wearing something in the purple family. In high school, for my birthday I was given another purple bunny for my birthday. The collection of pastel colors over ran my bedroom for years. My attempt to become an adult, I fell in love with the color brown. I loved brown because it went great with everything. It looked great on me. I could accessorize with anything because brown was that perfect. This brought me back a few years. I had given away all of my stuffed animals to my four-year-old roommate, and now I am here trying to search for a way to figure out my favorite color.

humanity
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About the Creator

Savannah McCain

I'm just a potato trying to become the best vodka I can be. My writing has no purpose. When I write, I write what is on my mind at the time. Some days I can write something funny and sweet, and others I would write something dark.

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