My favorite was the assignment to write about her favorite color. She chose black.
Black is the color of the beautiful night sky.
Black is the feeling when you feel mad.
Black is the dark color of paint.
Black smells like fresh wild blackberries.
Black tastes like ripe wild poison berries.
Black sounds like dark, dark hearted flying in the center of the creek.
Black looks like the blood thirsty leeches trying to painfully suck your blood.
Black feels like the sneaky old witches snatching you out of the house.
Black makes me want to dress scary for a fearful Halloween.
Black is one of my favorite colors.
When I first read it, I was worried that maybe she was a fourth-grade Goth already, but mostly, I just appreciated her very descriptive words.
And when The Maestro read it, he said, "She's your daughter."
He was right.
I love black. I suppose it is my favorite color, after red. I paint all my furniture black. Our bedspread is black. My curtains are black. My couch is black. I painted my bathroom doors black. My purse is black. All of my clothes are black. And all of Joel's clothes are black because I think they should be.
I was just cleaning out my drawers today, trying to lighten the load and send some things to Goodwill. I counted 14 black shirts, not including the one I am wearing and any that may be in the laundry. And those are only the ones that are just plain black. I have at least 14 more that are mostly black with some other color (usually white) in the pattern.
Only one black shirt went in the Goodwill box, and that's only because it shrunk in the wash and fits me funny now.
In my defense, I have a lot of white shirts, too.
And a couple red ones.
And that's about all.
Let's not even talk about how many pair of black shoes I own.
I may be boring, but at least I match.
And Bria has great taste in colors. Someday when everything she owns is black, I will be a proud mama and tell everyone that I taught her everything she knows.
Because I did.