I like to associate things with colors. I don’t know if it makes things easier to remember or if it’s some kind of weird thing I do, but I’ve always done it. See, to me and probably everybody else, specific colors go to specific school subjects. Blue is math, red is English, green is science, yellow is history. It’s what makes sense. But that’s not the only thing I associate colors with. I like to associate colors with specific people in my life. Some people seem blue or green, while others seem black or purple. Blue, gray, orange, black, purple, red. Everybody is a color.  And for a reason.

When I think of my father, I see orange. Why? I don’t know. Maybe it has to do with the fact that it’s his favorite color. Maybe it’s because of the way he is, that makes me see orange. He’s very much a combination of things. He’s creative, fun to be around, musically skilled, kind of crazy. He’s basically a young old person, as weird as that sounds. My grandma’s even said that he’s a seventeen year old boy stuck in a sixty year old man’s body. To me, orange represents youth, and this man, as old as he looks, is the epitome of youth.

When I think of my mother I see black. Sounds odd, but if you knew her, you’d probably think the same thing. I don’t mean that in a bad way, either. See, she’s very independent and outspoken. She’s also very fun, yet very serious. Strong-willed. Cynical, very cynical. If anything, she’s the opposite of my dad. They’re complete opposites, but that’s what made them so great together at one point.

When I think of my brother, I see white. White usually means innocence, purity, whatever have you, and while he definitely is all of those, he’s also perfect. My brother is my favorite person, and he always will be. He’s the type of person that can light up a whole room; kind of like the sun. He shines light everywhere.

Almost everybody in my life has a color. It’s what makes them uniquely mine.