the color red

On Tuesday night when I saw the majority of the US map turn red, I said, “this is making me dislike the color red.” “It’s like the country is hemorrhaging.”

I looked down and saw my red shoes and realized I was sitting in a red chair. And, I know it’s only a symbol but I didn’t want to touch it anymore. I got up and moved. I took off my shoes.

The last three days I’ve dressed in black and blue. I’ve been in mourning.

Today after treating myself to breakfast, I went around and photographed these leaves. I was instantly draw to the yellow ginkgo. So brilliant and happy.

The leaves still on the trees were partly green, a sign of the changing season.

I pondered this change that is in process, the seasons marching ahead. Just doing what they do.

I headed back to my car. And saw these orange and red leaves, this gorgeous tree and I thought of the color red again. I thought of what I said on Tuesday night.

I thought of my red car, how I chose the color because it’s my favorite. Because it is vibrant, it is passion, it is love, it is heart.

So I stopped and got closer to this tree with its red tinged leaves. I made more photos of its beautiful red veins.

And I felt better, I reclaimed the color red. It belongs to me too.

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