It's happening. It's the time of year when a green hue surrounds the big oak trees with the promise of leaves to come. The ethereal green tint fills the space around the craggly, wintered limbs, a promise that springtime is upon us.
I remember a favorite spring day long, long ago.
I am sitting at the table covered with crayons with five-year-old Son and two-year-old Daughter. Son is swirling the crayons in lazy circles, admiring each hue. Admiring and chattering. "See all the colors, Mom? See? Mom, are you looking at me?"
I look and nod and smile. Daughter is holding a crayon in her chubby fist. She is 'drawling a cowboy'. Daughter always 'drawls' cowboys. And she wears white cowboy boots. Everyday. She falls asleep in the boots and I sneak in to remove them. I am afraid that one day, the boots won't come off and she'll end up wearing those doggone things to her Senior Prom.
"Mom! What's your favorite color, Mom?" Son is looking up at me through his long dark lashes.
"Pink," I say.
Daughter is crying. She gets a little crease above her lip when she cries. "But Pink is my favorite," she moans, in utter devastation.
"We can share," I suggest.
She stares at me. Hard. "It's mine."
Son interrupts. "See this crayon? It's my favorite."
He is swirling a green crayon, mesmerized. He analyzes it closer, his big brown eyes wide with delight. "But see, it's not a dark green. It's a po-lite green."
Of course, I realize that he means 'light' green, but 'polite green' is a much better description of the green that hovers around a tree on a warm spring day or waves in the new grasses on the hillside.
Daughter's little lip is creasing again. "I want polite green! It's mine!"
Home is where Pol-lite green is. Happy Spring!