Favorite song? “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad” by Meatloaf. Favorite movie? Grease 2. Favorite food? Wiener schnitzel. Favorite hobby? Roller blading (in the garage while singing Allure at the top of my lungs).
It felt important to be able to rattle off these answers with immediacy and certainty. You know, just in case I was ever in a life threatening situation that required a zero-hesitation-tolerated answer to "WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW, 10-YEAR-OLD MACKENSIE?"
I can proudly say none of the aforementioned faves still apply, but color? That category has remained. Green was, is and probably always will be my favorite of the colors.
I was fascinated by other people’s number ones as well. I could name every person in my family’s preferred color, even when they were waffling between two. I’d pick out their colors on my stuffed animals and imagine how that color must make them feel. I couldn’t imagine pink, yellow or red giving someone else the thrill I got from green, but I tried. When all the other markers were streaking or coming out in meek, textured smears, the green one was always lush and full of juice, filling the page effortlessly with its vitality.
Growing up in one of the greenest places in America probably helped. Everything is green in Florida. It means it’s alive, lush, healthy. The rain never stays away for long, and plants have no reason to wither away or emulate the golden hue of California’s hills. It’s bright and playful, fresh and versatile. It can be water or plants, juice or mold, health or sickness, eggs or ham.
Just like I needed answers to anything the words "what's your favorite.." could end with, I often pondered the color of my irises. My eyes contain several colors and often change depending on my clothes, mood or scenery, but if for nothing but my driver's license, I needed to pin it down. I always felt like "hazel" was a cop out, but grey-blue-orange-green is never a box to check off.
The colors change, but I like them best when they’re my favorite color. And sometimes all it takes is a little shirt, ring and post-rain landscape coordination to make it happen.
Oh, and that ring? It's a Labradorite gem, a magical stone said to have released the Northern Lights into the night sky after being crushed by an all-powerful being. It's a "fire stone" that locals believed contained igniting powers to rid stress and increase energy. Things have been a little tense over here, so I definitely appreciate the extra stress release, energy boost and reminder of magic. Thanks so much for introducing your beautiful jewels to me, Labradorite Magic.
PS: Upon listening to some of 10-year-old MacKensie's favorite songs, I noticed conflicting and strangely relevant lyrics. Meatloaf says, "but you've been cold to me so long, I'm cryin' icicles instead of tears," and Allure says, "my tears will burn the pillow," and "my tears will cause an inferno." Coincidence? Or does this dramatic little Leo love the juxtaposition of hot and cold and songs that make her cry?