Purple (Written July 11, 2014)
Once upon a time,
A person asked me this:
What do you think you’d ask for
If you were given just one wish?
And I thought about it, really,
For longer than I ought,
‘Till, one day, I realized,
What I’d wanted I had forgot.
I wanted magic and adventure,
I wanted music and stories and fun,
I wanted mystery and wonder,
And a journey just begun-
But that’s not what I’d wish for,
No, I’d never wish for that all,
‘Cause the one thing I’ve always wanted most
I think I now recall.
So, one day if a person asks me,
What I’d change, if I had it my way,
I would tell them, nothing,
It’s already purple anyway.
Wait, I’ll explain the purple thing. It makes sense. Sort of. Enough sense, anyway, for it to be understood. Just read the whole ramble-y-thing.
So, I was traipsing about Youtube videos of Pentatonix and Starkid when I found this one of Kirstie Maldonado singing Home by Scott Alan:
(I love that song, by the way, and Kirstie is an amazing singer)
And that got me thinking all about my childhood and how, by general standards, I’m now an “adult”. Whatever that means. But I started thinking about when I was a little kid, and what we did back then. There were a couple of big things that come to mind:
1) Playing pretend with my siblings in our backyard
2) Sitting on the roof and reading and singing until the stars came out
3) Me and all my siblings sitting around listening to my oldest brother read us everything from Redwall by Brian Jacques, and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis, to The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan and Blue Moon Rising by Simon R. Green.
That is a pretty good look into my childhood. Add sneaking out of windows and climbing down chimneys to escape nap times, baking cookies, and play Brahms Lullaby in the background at the start, and some They Might Be Giants towards the end, and you have a good idea of how I grew up. Now, I tie this into the poem, just wait.
I read a book once called Mondays Are Red by Nicola Morgan. And in the book a kid describes days of the weeks as being different colors. Which, apparently, is an actual neurological phenomena known as synesthesia. After reading that book I started realizing that I tend to describe smells and feelings by colors. The smell of a kitchen that somebody is baking in is orange. Smoke from pine wood is orange too, but not as bright. The feeling I get when I’m really upset or angry is the same as the feeling of a toothache, and there are this sort of red-purple.
So, my favorite colors are purple, green, and orange: purple because it is the color of magic, green because it is the smell or adventure, and orange because it is what home feels like. But, even though I would describe home as being orange, my childhood and my memories are purple, because they were magical. So, if I had one wish, if I got to have my way just once, I wouldn’t change a thing because it has all been purple thus far. I’ll just try and keep what I have with me as I go forward.
So… yeah. How do I cope with the idea of a grey future? I hope I’ll be able to paint it purple and orange and green. C=
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