Two Shades of Pink (sorry...couldn't resist)




Color is very important to me. Not sure why, but it is. I guess that is why I love to paint. I can control and reproduce color harmony to my heart's content! It's an impotent, canvas kingdom I rule...but I love it there. Sometimes, it is too important...like on my wedding day. My bridesmaids' dresses were kind of a denim blue floral (I also have a denim obsession) and I wanted a soft peach color for the flowers. We were VERY clear to the florist...peach, NOT PINK. I also have a bit of a hate on for pink. They showed us samples...they wrote it in bold letters on the order form....they assured this dreamy bride to be with a Obsessive Color Disorder. The morning of my wedding, a garden of uninvited pink flowers arrived...with the exception of the flowers girl's bouquet...a beautiful handful of peach. Did I cry? No. Did I obsess? A little...but I overcame and didn't let the botanical tragedy ruin the day. The pictures have immortalized the visual pain and continue to remind me that this is not my home...there will be no pink in Heaven.

Ironically, my dear husband, when we first began to date, Christmas gifted me with a beautiful angora type sweater. It was pink. Not just one shade of pink, but two!! We were just getting to know each other then. He was not aware of my shadey secrets and for that reason, I wore the sweater with pride and focused on it's soft texture for comfort. Much sweater culling has happened in my closet over the years, and every time I pick up that dusty, rosey gesture of love, I return it to it's proper place...the keepsake part of my closet. Sometimes special things must be treasured in your heart rather than flaunted for the world to see. That's how I justify it anyway.

Yesterday, Valentines Day, my family and I were shopping and my 13 year old son, stealthily bought me a beautiful, single rose to surprise and nurture me. Overtaking the awesome fragrance was it's color...an unbelievably soothing peach. He wasn't at my wedding and I don't think he pays much attention to my nostalgic stories, but my husband was with him when he made the purchase. He knows me well now and his act of love, standing tall in the background did not go unappreciated. I would have loved a pink rose just as much from my sweet teen, but his father's intimate knowledge of my desires and memories was kind of a romantic message. Without a word, he said, "I remember our wedding day...and even your silliest concerns are important to me."

I have a feeling that all those pink roses of yesteryear are being replaced...one by one...year after year...until the bad visual memory fades forever. It's a tough life without a little of your favorite colors :)

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