Cinnamon apple candle flickering Christmas on the sill above the sink. My editor's fine point felt tip pen ready to wield its power. The bows clipped on my black patent leather shoes during my first trumpet recital. The color my nose turns from bitter cold or bitter cries.
The scarlet lipstick and floor-length dress and I donned for Senior prom. The imaginary bow tying the perfect package of boyfriends, grades, and accolades wrapped up to hide the insecurity, pain, and shame inside.
Wooden beads encircling the 10 foot tall pine tree. Cuts and scrapes and bruises from a banged up, skinned up knee. The hand-knitted beanie made from my sister's love. Tonka dump truck, Duplo blocks, and Fisher Price Barn--the color of imagination, creation, play.
It's love and anger and passion deep and desperate. It's holidays and play days and bringing me back to old school days full of merry cheer and foggy fear. It's the beauty of little boy cheeks blazing hot from running summer sun. It's the heartache of a little heart come undone.
It's the stripes under stars that sing our freedom song. It's the sun glowing low after a mountain hike long.
But mostly it's the crimson gift of blood that covers all. It's God's heart for the world, His Son, His grace to bring us back from the fall.
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This post is another link-up with Lisa-Jo and the Five Minute Friday Community, where we all spend five minutes pouring out our hearts over one prompt for the joy of writing without worrying about getting it right. Love it.