Yellow
I’m wearing my yellow robe, drinking coffee out of a yellow mug that has a
rooster on it. When I take coffee into my mouth, I hold off from swallowing
and let my tongue believe it’s taking a luxurious bath. Traffic swooshes
down the street. People are busy being busy. For hours, I’ve been planning
a trip to the end of the driveway to pick up the newspaper. Ravens bicker
with each other out in the yard. The cats circle my chair, beg to be let out to
murder. Each day we inch our way toward death. One day, without knowing
it, we buy the clothes we’ll be buried in. We smile for a camera that snaps
the shot that’ll be used for our obituary. I’ll probably die in this robe, but
until then I’m going to eat some waffles that come in a box that’s also
yellow. Often, when children draw the sun, they’ll either use a yellow or
orange crayon. The older, more advanced children will use both. In
kindergarten, there was this kid who drew his suns in big, blood-red circles.
The teacher once asked him why he chose red for his suns, and he said,
“This is how I see it. This is how it is in my world.”
—Joshua Michael Stewart
from Love Something