Splash of Color

I’m not going to lie – I’ve been looking for the correct picture for this post for over a half-hour, but nothing came close. I’ve also been putting Shiloh back to sleep several times for the last three hours (noisy neighbors, wet pull-up, wet pjs, sweaty, etc.).

Very soon, there will be a slew of resolutions flooding social media platforms. Before the midnight bell tolled on Christmas, I saw stores lined with workout clothes and trendy water bottles while my arms were weighed down by last-minute gifts. Everything since October feels like a blur.

With the weather milder than usual for winter, Shiloh and I went on a walk to the park a few days ago. There was nothing extraordinary about the walk. I walked on the outside of him on the sidewalk and helped him pull up his pants and tuck his shirt into the waistband because they were a half-inch too long.  We got to the park, and he went down the slide exactly twenty times, I counted, then I lured him back home without a tantrum by telling him we had to go check the mail – which he loves as much as I.

Shiloh’s toddler fingers kept pointing and announcing to the sky that the leaves were brown. I have never met someone who’s said their favorite color is brown. Brown is earthy and organic, and as such, the color – just like the last few months – simply laid the backdrop for everything else in the neighborhood. The leaves blanketed the sleeping grass of miniature lawns of the rows of townhomes and every third house or two had strung up fabric or rainbow lights for Christmas.

Then, Shiloh stopped, pointed, then said, “It’s yellow flower, Mommy!”

Turning around, I saw – there interposed – one surviving dandelion.

Shiloh plucked it from the ground, using his other hand to jerk up his pants again, and held it up to me.

Enthusiastically, he asked,”Is it pretty?” then answered himself, “pretty yellow flower.”

I don’t promise to make any big resolutions this year – but I hope in the moments where days are strewn together and I feel like the moments are whirling past like a revolving door – that I stop to seek out the splash of color.

 

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