Before I knew the word ironic, there was a brief moment in my youth that my mother and I colored together. My book was likely purchased from Olson’s Super Market – filled with cartoon characters. Hers was was given to her by a good friend who recognized her situation – it was titled, “Color me happy.” It just occurred to me, the meaning of “make-believe.”
I suppose the only way of learning it is to live it. And that’s what she did. By creating a belief (sometimes out of seemingly nothing at all) she made me believe not all things are bad, many things are good! So many things are good!
It’s not lost on me that on some difficult days, the best thing I can do is make-believe (I want to be clear – this is not pretend – this is creation.) I take out my colored pencils. I draw something. And color, by beautiful color, I can see the beauty of this moment, this day, this life, and I know for certain, so many things are good!
With this tiny bird, I did in fact, “color myself happy.” My mother taught me that. She taught me how to color. She taught me how to fly.