Slice of Life Tuesday: You are Orange

Join Two Writing Teachers and share a Slice of Life today!

I have been enamored with the book Poemcrazy: Free Your Life with Words, written by Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge. Although I am about half-way through it, I love that so much of it emphasizes playing with words, phrases, and ideas. This book has helped me play in my writer’s notebook with different kinds of writing and exploring new words.

Susan Wooldridge shares that she often begins initial workshop sessions (after participants have collected words) by asking participants to write down in a list the first things they think of in response to this question:

If I were a color, what color would I be?

I began drafting a list in my notebook. I jotted down phrases like petal droplets, lilac blossoms, sky ribbons, daffodil surprises, and tulip stems (can you tell that I have been noticing signs of spring around me?). I conjured some fantastic images in my mind. However, I did not end up focusing on a specific color. Yet, for me, it was notebook play, and it is probably a list that I will maybe return to someday.

A peek into my notebook

My ten-year-old daughter, sitting next to me, peered at my list, and asked me what I was doing. I told her the exercise I was trying. I wondered what she, as a tween, would come up with. Here’s a snip of our conversation:

Me: If you were a color, what color would you be?

Daughter: I would be yellow. A bright yellow, not one that is faded. Because yellow is a color full of sunshine and joy.

Me: What kind of color do you think that I would be?

Daughter: Hmm... definitely not blue.

Me: Really? You know that I like blue. I wear SO much blue.

Daughter: I know, but blue is a cool color. It means sadness. You aren’t sad.

A few quiet moments pass.
Daughter: Oh, I know. Orange. You would be orange.
Me: Orange? Tell me more.

Daughter: Orange is a warm color. One of comfort and warmth. You are orange.

Orange has never been one of my favorite colors. To me, I think of blaze orange for hunting or construction cones. For me, it signals a warning. A caution. Yet, suddenly I thought of sunsets and sweet oranges and times spent in front of a campfire. Even in listening to my daughter’s explanation, I don’t always feel orange - full of comfort and warmth. Ultimately, I love knowing that right now, this is how my daughter sees me. Our conversation made me feel warm. So I don’t mind seeming orange to her.