Blossoming

Years and years ago I remember reading the phrase "color me sorry" somewhere. I cannot recall if it was on a greeting card, or if it was a sentence in some super-sappy-angst-filled-teen-drama-novel I was reading at the time (I did mention this was years and years ago). Regardless of when I first tripped across it, it is a phrase that has stuck with me. I have even used it a time or two in my life. Not in my speech--it seems just maybe a bit too odd to say aloud--but certainly in written form. The notion of the color sorry just resonates with me. Or is it the verb-noun combination--coloring sorry--which is appealing? I am not sure.

A few months ago Jennifer of The Verge wrote a bit about this idea: the colors of her life, the color of emotion. As it always does, her writing speaks to my soul and I have come back to this notion over and again lately.

Tonight I spent several hours in the company of friends--you could nearly call them family--and celebrated a birthday for the youngest member of the group (she's 22). It was such a terrific evening full of open sharing and caring conversation with like minds and fellow travelers. I reluctantly dragged myself from the gathering as the time grew late, knowing that I needed to get home but really wanting to linger in the warmth of the moment. I rode my bike home in the crisp fall air with my heart singing out a color. I can't name it, but I can show you it's best approximation.

This is the color of my life tonight:


Perhaps it does have a name. I think I will call this color friendship.