RED

I strolled down Mercer Ave to go to work, and my toes got chilly! These damn Chucks, I love them and hate them. The rubber is worn to the sole, the canvas ripped and torn. They’re only a few months old and I spent 60 fucking bucks for the most minimalist shoe wear on the market! I do like the color, they’re red. Red perplexes my mind. It is bright and positive, dark and twisty, bold and daring, full of life and death. Red makes a statement, and is always seen. Most cars stopped for speeding are red, stop signs are red, Christmas is red, heat is red, pain is red, love is red, blood is red. I remember watching myself bleed as a kid. I was rollerblading through the neighborhood and saw some older kids grinding the curb. I thought to myself, sliding looks fun! I like to slide. I made my approach, of course at a distant curb from the tweenagers to protect my neighborhood reputation, or lack thereof one. I pushed off with my right blade gaining a slight speed at a gentle angle towards the curb of the side walk, knees bent, focused directly on the stretched corner of this strange cube. I leapt enough to clear the edge and locked on between the 2^nd and 3^rd wheels of my blades anticipating freedom to hit my soul like riding through the curl of a wave. The gritty concrete gripped me, holding me like a fearful mother, freezing my skates, throwing my momentum from my hips over my shoulders and into the street where I began. I threw out my arms as airbags for my body and felt my hands scratching the rocky crust, grating the skin on my lower palms. I frantically looked up to see if anyone had observed the failure of my treacherous feat. The older kids rolled on further down the road, oblivious to my presence. Quickly, I leapt back up on my blades and scurried away to a vacant grassy knoll at the park nearby. I dabbed the blood into the grass, my grandmother would be furious if I stained my jeans. As the adrenalin subsided the sting began to slightly grow. I peered at the back of my hands slowly turning them outward revealing the consequence of my decisions. I watched the cool blue veins in my wrist, I could see each blood cell like a group of rafters on the Wenatchee, flowing into my palms, and out the perforated holes on the juicy part of the hand under my thumb. I could almost see the transition in slow motion, life turning to pain. Blue turning to red. I whimpered for a short instance, consumed in self pity as the red slowly filled the small pieces of my skin that had been torn away. Then, I saw it, almost for the first time, this amazing color. It invigorated me, empowered me, entranced me. It had texture and depth that inspired me to live. It was beautiful. Red has always been my favorite color since.