Written by Emily
“She is my favorite! I love her colors.”
I don’t know what she meant to say. I don’t really know if she knew what she said, but my 2yo’s spontaneous announcement about her undying affection for her grandmother captured just what it is that makes people magnetic. If colors were magnetic.
I get it: the stuff percolating under the surface that comes bubbling out in conversation or in breathless laughter, or in moments of comfortable silence–that good stuff, that’s the color.
Both Noah and Chloe asked me on separate occasions if the world used to be black and white. I may have laughed at first. I definitely smiled. They had caught glimpses of black and white films and had flipped through black and white photos in albums with creaky binding and cellophane sheets.
I explained that the world has always been full of color, we just didn’t always have the technology to capture it. Rainbows have always been. Flowers vibrant–always. The sun: radiant against a blue sky. In fall leaves lit the mountains in a fiery blaze just like they do today.
There has always been color, I told them. And they smiled and nodded and ran away to do the things that little ones do.
There has always been color. In nature for sure, but also, as Sylvie revealed to me, in people. We’re not always equipped to capture it or appreciate it, even, but it’s always there.
In her infinite toddler wisdom, I think Sylvie taught me what love is.
“She’s my favorite! I love her colors.”
That’s exactly it. Exactly.