Colors of Love

Red is the color I turned when Mark Adams first kissed me on the cheek. I said I most certainly did not like him, and he said he could prove I was lying. He knew a special test. By changing colors I failed the test, and he couldn’t stop laughing.
Orange was the color of our fingertips when we finished a family-sized bag of Cheetos. We stayed up all night watching “Star Wars” movies. Mark couldn’t believe I’d never seen a George Lucas film. We didn’t eat popcorn because he had lost his popcorn-popping privileges. He didn’t tell me why; he just said it was a dark day in the Adams household.
Yellow daffodils were pushing up from the ground when he took me to the park, saying we must “celebrate spring.” He brought an enormous kite, the kind that has a tail with ribbons. As we sat in the grass, he undid the sun-colored ribbon in my hair, adding it to the tail of the kite. We ran all around the park to keep our kite flying, the ribbons waving.
Green was the color of Mark’s face after we rode the biggest roller coaster in the amusement park. He’s afraid of them, but he rode it anyway to prove that he was “man enough,” I guess. When the ride was over, he dashed to the nearest trash can, emptying his stomach. So much for manhood. I couldn’t stop laughing. That is, until he said if I didn’t stop, he’d kiss me on the mouth. Barf kiss: gross!
Blue envelopes are tied up with string in a shoebox under my bed. Love letters Mark left in my locker, signed, “Your secret admirer, Mark.” I told him signing his name defeated the purpose of a secret admirer, but he said he didn’t care.
Indigo ink was what he used to write on the palm of his hand. Curiosity prevailed and I gently took the palm of his hand and pried his fingers open, one by one. Slowly I was able to uncover the words, “I love you.” I kissed his palm and all his fingers before settling on his mouth.
Violet roses I received a week before our anniversary. We never exchanged gifts on that day. He said red ones were overdone. “Besides,” he added, “violet is the color of passion.” He waggled his eyebrows and I laughed, hitting him lightly on the arm. This later on causes a bruise of purple hues.
These bands of colors are the experiences that brought Mark and me together. Even thought our lives aren’t always so picture perfect, it’s what we learn from or mistakes that make our love grow ever stronger. I remember, as a little kid trying to find the end of the rainbow. Now as I grow older I am learning that it’s not always what you find at the end but what you experience trying to get to the end of it.