Is It Really Necessary to Have a Favorite Color?
Let the retinas run wild for a day and see what happens
My favorite color, hands down, is green. My favorite umbrella, which I have proudly not lost, is lime-green. Bought it in Hong Kong during the rainy season. I was the only green umbrella in a sea of black ones.
A decade ago or so, I found myself attracted to orange. Slowly but surely, I began to notice that brown was also sneaking its way into my wardrobe.
Blue didn’t cut it. I even found blue jeans disheartening, and then located a pair of rocking “Joe Jeans”: The color was a creamy, light-green that reminded me of fading guacamole. I still have those pants, and just writing about them fills me with fond memories of days strutting around in them— time to get them out of the closet as spring is near. I will wear them despite the hole in the “ass region,” which came about from an ice skating incident.
Green revs my engine of creativity. And at the same time, it completes everything for me, like that one missing corner of the 1,000 piece puzzle that occupies the card table. Ah, I found it! How did that get under the refrigerator? Like a short, but firm, hug a father gives when saying good-bye, green realigns me, telling me you can do this.
