Outside the Lines

I like to color. There! I said it! My secret is out. Coloring is fun and I don’t care who knows it. In fact, I’d go so far as to say there are few things in life more exciting than the moment I receive an unspoiled coloring book and a fresh box of crayons.

I’m lucky because I share my home with three children. My house holds a mass of magnificent markers, caverns of colorful crayons and piles of petite pencils. And I can choose from thousands of coloring books, like Spiderman, Cinderella, or The Fluffy Bunny. Plus, I have a perfect excuse to color my heart out without raising eyebrows. “I was just entertaining the kids.” I smile as I dab a few shades of green onto the grass beneath Snoopy’s toes. In reality, the act of rubbing pastel pink across the page feeds my sense of self.

While I color, my mind is in the first grade and I relive the first moment I popped open a box of Crayola 120 Count - with the built in sharper, of course. I see myself turning back the lid and gasping with glee as my eyes consume a rainbow of pinks, reds, blues and greens. They are lined up in neat rows with their heads held high. I giggle as I study each perfect little soldier, so shiny and bright and beautiful. I savor the scent of wax as my fingers skim each cap, tenderly addressing the troops and promising that they will all get a turn to shine.

I carefully consider how each will contribute to my grand designs. Slowly, I pull out the first color, roll it between my fingers and read the label. Hello, Brick Red. You are strong and dark. I can use you to shade the chimney. There you are Burnt Sienna. Though you are a dull clay hue, you’ll do nicely for the flower pot on the window sill. Turquoise Blue, you are so soft and calm. You will span the sky scape save for the orb of brilliant Lemon Yellow at the top. The flower bed will be Magenta, Mauve and Mulberry. And pretty Mountain Meadow, you will cover the grass.

Coloring books, I am certain, should not be reserved for children. And its a crime against society that such appears to be the case. The sensation of the waxy tip gliding across dull white pages and creating brilliant dreams feeds my need to believe in magic. Watching a small piece of the world get slowly and neatly brighter creates an immediate sense of victory. Good over evil. Triumph over tragedy. The sensation of a sweet scented marker swishing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, slowly filling in the gaps and details, feeds a focus on beautiful ideas and exhilarating wishes. At less than five dollars a shot, it’s the cheapest form of therapy money can buy.

If I had my way, several copies of The Coloring Adventures of Scooby Doo and an eight pack of primaries would be standard issue at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Think how much calmer everyone would be if they could renew a license after turning the Mystery Machine into a Midnight Blue and Melon mini-bus. It might even help improve smiles on the ID Photo cards.

If I were in charge, airports would be littered with My First Looney Tunes Coloring Book and a thick set of Magik Markers. Then no one would care that their flights had all been delayed two hours because of a thunder storm in Toledo while their luggage had been diverted to Topeka. And the biggest concern would be remembering to place the cap back on the Razzle Dazzle Rose.

More coloring books in the hands of adults, I am convinced, could be the missing step to World Peace. I propose that the United Nation's next order of business should be to declare an International Day of Coloring. And henceforth, all border disputes among hostile nations should be settled by holding a Free Drawing Fiesta.

So my friends, you are free to envy me. Because I am one of the lucky few. My position as a parent permits met to sit for hours, smiling at my children and coloring to my heart’s content. I can color the sea Canary and sketch the sky Salmon. I can draw Denim daises and paint Purple pandas. I can become one with the wax. Zen and the Art of Coloring Books!

And, most important, I can color outside the lines. And no one can stop me!