I woke up at 6am this morning with a joyful sense of urgency to continue reading the book I’m in the middle of. To return to the colorful lives of these people I’ve come to know in such a short time.
And I smile, knowing I can. And I smile, because I’m suddenly 5 years old, waking up at 6am on a Saturday morning to return the colors of the cartoons. To return to the blues of the Jetsons and the oranges of the Flintstones, the whites of the Roman Holidays. It was a magical time. To be carried away in the stories of Underdog and Rocky and Bullwinkle and all of the living colors.
I wanted to get closer and closer.
I could feel the colors dance inside my heart and mind.
I heard, “Don’t get too close, back up from the screen,” and so I did—right into a box of crayons! There was that magic again. First the box of 18, then 36, then 64—the possibilities multiplied. I colored and mixed and tore back the paper and colored some more.
What a beautiful gift, these colors! I heard, “Stay inside the lines.” That would be impossible, I thought. You can’t contain magic. I added words to colors and colors to words.
The certainty of youth is bright, but living can dim almost anyone. I was determined not to become one of them. I was determined to live in color.
I was determined to get too close, to see too much, to peel back the boundaries and run outside the lines and live—to live in all the beautiful colors.
Color does not separate, it connects. We are all offered the brilliant yellows of 6 am, the comforting blues of midnight, and the ever-changing greens that grow in between. All of our possibilities lie in these colors. They allow us to take chances, to be open, to be creative, and to be accepting of all.
It’s 6am decades later and I am not missing sleep, I am joyful for the journey. I read and feel the colors of these new friends and wonder and wander.
Today, this Saturday morning, is as bright and as youthful as I, you, make it! It is, right now, a magical time.