Is Pink The 10th Color?

I always wondered if that basic starter pack of general crayons got it right. You know, the 10-pack? Not the 32-pack. Not the big 64-pack that blew your adolescent mind when it came out. And not the pack that had over 100 crayons. 15 different shades of green. An orange-red and a red-orange which were apparently quite different.

No, the 10-pack. Were those the original 10 colors? The main 10?

The pack had red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, brown, black, gray, and pink. They all seemed to fit. Except for pink. I don’t know why it felt like three groups of three… and then pink was just left out. Did they get it right?

All throughout my life I experienced the different colors. As a kid it was all the blues and greens circling my life. I’d stand there, soaking wet to the bone, giggling my little head off. Blues and greens washing over me and surrounding me. That period lasted a while. (Did my blue and green period last as long as Picasso’s Blue Period? Tough to say.)

Then, I experienced purple. And black. I’d sit back, my mind in a musky fog, the smell of confusion stained the walls of my nose. Even more of the stench stained the walls that surrounded me so closely… so tightly… were they pressing on my lungs? Purples clouded my judgment and the black swirls held me down and refused to let me achieve much of anything.

But I got out of there. I met red. Flaming, exuberant red. Took me places I had never been. Wild rides and even wilder adventures. Orange accompanied us many a time. The wind rushed in my face and it was the happiest I had felt in a long time. I met adrenaline. I met laughter once again. I swore, it had substance at the time, but looking back, it lacked it.

Red left me. Orange didn’t visit anymore. And the former colors I knew in my life passed by from time to time. Occasionally ghosts streaked past as fleeting memories. I sank into myself, unaware what I should be doing, where I should be. I craved something and I didn’t know what it was. And that’s when yellow came along. As bright as the sun, illuminating everything.

That was why I thought I needed yellow in my life. Because it came along at the time I had a massive void to fill. And yellow fit nicely. I was grateful to have filled my hollow hole, but it never lifted me up to places I wanted to be. The harsh reality finally set in… and yellow set… like the sun.

There, I was introduced to gray. Drabby, dull gray. At least it was something. But it left me feeling slow in the mind and the emotion center. I couldn’t even tell you if “emotion center” was the right word… or phrase… or term… but it’s what I would say. Because it sounded “right enough” and I didn’t have the energy to correct myself.

Gray faded into the mist… and out of the mist… emerged brown. I didn’t think I would have been so intrigued by brown, but it had substance, it had character. It stuck around and it gave me life. It helped me to feel real feelings.

And that’s where I had been for a while. Brown gave me purpose and brown made things right. Things made sense. After a while, I realized not everything had to be good or satisfactory. As long as it made sense. Brown taught me that. And gray started coming back around sometimes. But it was okay. I was okay with gray nowadays. Thenadays.

Nowadays… not so much. But what was I to do?

It’s a 50/50 blend of brown and gray. Drab, gray walls having boring sounding sighs. I guess some things had to be boring. Brown lingered in the crevices and cracks of every corner… but started to hide out of view more often. It was less about seeing brown… and more about knowing of brown’s presence. As long as brown was there and I could feel it, that was what gave me purpose in life. Things made enough sense for me to continue on in this human existence and work my job and buy groceries and lay on my back in bed and stare up at the ceiling and wonder who painted this ceiling and wonder if the person who painted the ceiling ever looked past the ceiling at the sky and strove to paint with exciting colors that existed up there.

As long as things felt brown. The feeling of brown was all around. Brown set a precedent for every day life… and that feeling stuck to the walls in my very apartment. Even if they all looked gray. Even if that was truly the only color I witnessed.

I’d lay on my back in bed and stare up at that gray ceiling and try to imagine blues and blacks and purples of the night sky above it… past it… where I couldn’t see. Where I couldn’t get my eyes on.

I’d go to work and do it all… same as always. I’d buy the groceries. I’d get my oil changed in my car. I’d put the gas in my car. And I’d see gray all day, every day, every step of the way. And I never saw pink out there. Did they get it right with that box of crayons? Maybe it should have been a nine pack. Although, I suppose that would have been difficult to package.

And the thought would only enter my mind briefly. And I’d go home and I’d have a decent night and watch a decent show and eat a decent meal. And I’d lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling. That’s what I was doing… staring at the ceiling… when something came crashing through just above me.

A person-sized hole was created in the ceiling… and there it was. Magnificent pink, floating down towards me. Flowing like the tendrils of some sea creature as it hovered in the ocean. Almost like wet strands of hair, but surrounded by a wet medium, so not quite wet. Just in a floating standstill of beauty. It hovered… but it lowered… closer and closer to me.

Not just one pink. The larger, overall picture, yes it was one pink. Your most perfect pink. But a keen eye for details would see nuance and detail and different shades. It was 50 shades of pink as it lowered down on top of me, engulfed me lightly, and lifted me up off my bed. It pulled me up into the air. Weightlessness. And soft, silky pink caressing my body as it lifted me through the hole in the ceiling and up into the night sky.

The pink lifted me so high into the sky but I never felt fear and I never felt cold… even if I was wearing pajamas on a 40 degree night. I don’t know where we headed, somewhere with a large magnificent light. Mainly white but with pinkish hues. Was I abducted by aliens? Perhaps. If so, people got it all wrong. They were gentle. They were quite kind. In fact, they injected me with happiness I had never known.

It might not have been aliens. It might have been something else. What it might have been, I had no idea. But I just know that it held me securely and softly in the center of the sky amongst the stars and it encompassed me wholly. My joints stopped aching, my neck wasn’t sore, my whole body felt tremendously good. I could smell flowers. What kind, I wasn’t sure of. But they were intoxicating and calming in the same whiff.

I had no idea how long the experience lasted. I never wanted it to end. Like a dream that finally got all the right aspects just perfect for you. But eventually, the large, soft, pink mass lowered me back into my bed, tucked me in, and vanished.

I laid in bed every night staring up at the hole in my gray ceiling after that. Hoping the pink would return. Every few nights I’d see it glide by on the night sky. Occasionally I’d see bursts of yellow and orange that intrigued me in the moment, but they weren’t pink. Most nights I fell asleep, waiting for something to happen that never would.

But then, by chance or by a miracle, it happened again. The same as the first time. Descending through my ceiling, engulfing me, swallowing me up, and lifting me up. Lifting me up high so I could mingle with the stars and rub my cheek against the cold moon. I’d stay suspended in mid air, letting ecstasy wash over my skin.

I never talked during the experience. I always thought beforehand that I should. That I should ask questions. But in the moment, I’d forget. Or I wouldn’t want to, for fear of ruining the moment, scaring away pink as if it were a meek, little squirrel. Pink would always return me gently to my bed and disappear. Then, be gone for a long time, only to return instantly… weeks later.

Brown had turned to gray in my life. The other colors existed in tiny proportions. They all blended together. Life was one big, gray ceiling, just hanging over my head. Consistency across the board, offering protection, and continuity, and security. And those were things that people wanted oftentimes. But they grew boring.

I much preferred to lay in bed and wait for that shooting star of pink to streak across the sky and come visit the hole in my ceiling. To levitate… and then allow me to levitate too. It was better, waiting around a long time for something to come, because when it came it was so exciting. It caused my heart to beat faster. I never quite knew what it was. But did I ever know what any of this was? Life? I had just been trying to navigate it as best as I could. Unsure what anything meant. Unsure what I needed and what I wanted.

I had never known pink before in my life. But I’m glad pink finally arrived. Even if only sporadically to come abduct me from my bedroom and lift me to incredible heights and encompass me with silky, soft strands of mystery. And then return me without a word.

Did they really get it right? Is pink the 10th color?

**************

If you enjoyed this story and want to read more of my work, then please come check out my website where I post all my latest work, plus you can even subscribe for updates!