My wife's sudden death in her 40s sent me digging
through crayons trying to identify my emotions.
Blue Denim holds my cold,
clenched fists of anger. Royal Purple radiates the bruise that oozes under my
skin. I like green, so I draw each green crayon across the paper, trying to find the right one, but none calm
me like being in Yosemite. Shamrock is too bright. Granny Smith Apple is too warm.
Forest Green comes close — it's grainy and gray like grief.
