April.28.2026 The Color Red

Back to my wise Mother who watched me pick out my first toy at the local store one day as I approached my 3rd birthday. We had gone on an outing and since my birthday was coming fast, she had told me I could select whichever toy I wanted with one requirement...I must be able to pick it up and carry it to the front register for payment.

Seems like a simple choice and task for a three-year-old. And to a point it was. But alas I did not just select a coloring book, doll or even a puzzle. No. No I did not. What I chose was a Dump Truck with a large red dumper on it. So large of a dump truck that it was the same size as my three-year-old me. So I huffed and puffed and pulled and pushed that Red Dump Truck to the register.

When my Mother and I got the the front of the store the cashier said rather surprisingly, "This is for You?"

My Mother responded to her since I was basically out of breath. "I told her she could have anything she wanted in the store as long as she carried it up to the register to pay for it. And she has done that. So she can have it."

The dye was cast so to speak. My first dump truck. And it was red. What more could a three year old girl want.

For you see, I loved building castles in the sandbox that my young-at-heart Father had made for me. He always knew just what to put together for me to explore and play outdoors. The day he announced that he was building a sandbox for me, I was overjoyed.

I just couldn't wait. It would be so much fun! And, as we all know, if you want to build solid and proper sand castles you need a dump truck and a sand box. I mean, everyone knows that, right?

And about that color Red....my Mother would tell you that red is my favorite color. I can see why she would say that. After all, I did pick up a Red Dump Truck and my bedroom was covered in a bright red, wall to wall, low-pile shag carpet.

As if red carpeting wasn't enough, there were the pink walls. Not just any old pink. A kind of pepto-bismol pink. Darker than pastel. Lighter than princess.

And the draperies. Can't forget those. Brilliant flowers exploding and cascading across the floor length curtains in shades of bright and deep red, pepto-bismol pink, and pops of white. Perfectly bright and busy any time day or night.

My Mother used to say, wryly, that she had no idea how I could sleep in my bedroom with all of that stimulation. I, on the other hand, thought my red and pink room was perfect in every way and I had no night without deep sleep. It was my space. And I loved it.

Looking back I can see why my Mother thought that red was my favorite color. And she is right to the point that I have always loved red. But red was just one of many colors on my 'favorite colors' list, because remember, we still have not told the story of that crayon box.