Author: Laura Popa
A lot of my memories are yellow.
Just as almost every kid on this planet I used a yellow pencil to fill the left corner of a blank paper.
Yellow looked like a sun on a silly drawing.
My dad was driving to the sea passing by sunflower fields in the summer.
Yellow looked like bright, daring sunflowers.
The car’s speakers were blasting joyful songs and my family was singing along.
Yellow sounded then like them.
A few years went by and I began to appreciate the autumn feeling rather than the summer.
Yellow was less bright and more calming. It sounded raspy, like autumn leaves being crushed by my feet.
On some days yellow tasted like fizzy apple cider. It sounded like friends laughing their hearts out.
At some point yellow smelt like the boy with blonde hair and blue eyes, the smell of woods after it had rained.
Yes, yellow was warm, restless, confident, even charming.
But it tasted bittersweet.
One day yellow looked horrible, like a frightened gaze on a pale face.
For some time, I couldn’t even see yellow anymore – it was too bright.
That summer I had to relearn how to accept yellow.
When enough time has passed, yellow came back into my life.
It seemed like hundreds of people were singing their favorite songs together.
Oh, yellow was exciting again. It looked like new people every day, like a sunflower growing when watered.
Occasionally it looked scary and lonely.
A few months ago, it appeared blurred for the first time.
I couldn’t recognize this color anymore.
Yellow was all these things for me.
What is yellow like for you?
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This article is part of our competition with as theme “yellow”.
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