Blue Doors and Nose Rings
When I was younger and I lived just a few blocks from school, I always walked there. It wasn’t very far and to this day, I remember every road I took. One especially stands out in my mind.
It was a long street with a strip of garages, the doors all a rusty red or brown. Except for one: it was blue. Not the shade that brings images of an infant’s bedroom, but a bright, dashing blue that called out to every passerby, “See me!”
I did. Passing it every day made it a familiar landmark, and over time a friend. Eventually, I gave it a smile and a silent wave on my daily journey.
I moved away when I was 12 and never returned. I don’t know if that garage door is still blue, if anyone else waves at it anymore. What happened to its owner. I wonder what possessed him or her to paint that door blue instead of brown like the rest.
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I wonder the same thing whenever I see someone with unearthly pink hair or extra-large tattoos. What makes people want to stand out? Some would say insecurity, that the girl with three nose rings who laughs loudly at everything is really a shaken child inside. But how would they know? Is she really? Or are they just jealous that they never had the kind of courage to be the pink-haired person?
I think a part in all of us wants to paint our doors blue. To make a sixth-grader wonder who you are.
I know I do.