i'm desperate for color - long sweeps of sky blue washing into deep ocean water and sunshine, aqua and turquoise like the rings made by the pueblos, brilliant fiery orange the color of sunset or pink that appears before the dawn. i've been living too long with oatmeal and angel's gate, creamy neutral and colors that don't clash. i love vanilla, but it gets sweet and unconfrontational and white and safe. i crave a burst of watermelon juice and lime sorbet - raspberry straight from the vine - warm orange and yellow peppers with a layer of dust on their skin. I need light and juice and flavor - delicious from morning till night - reflecting the daylight with streaks and shimmers of sunglass-wearing brightness and warm evening richness. i write so much about childhood when i loved climbing trees and picking plump red cherries and rolling downhill forever on the grass - when sunshine was a call to live and live and live some more, not in my head, but in my senses - in the feel of the dew on my bare feet in the early morning - the soft, sweet and slick coat of a newborn puppy - the asphalt on the palms of my hands when i fell off my bike. exploring in the woods and the dark shade of the forest, bright green moss alive on the dead trees, soft and fairy-like in its delicate perfection. the feel of the grapevine held securely in my dirty-finger nailed hands, just before taking off - stepping from the ledge - no fear of falling - only the exhilaration of flying free - soaring groundless for a brief moment. then i lived in taste and touch and free expression of every joy - tears flowing unrestrained when the mini-bike crashed and the blister covered half my small leg. tears and heartbreak unchecked when our puppy - who had not yet had the chance to grow up - chased a car and slid under the wheel and died before my eyes while daddy grilled hamburgers and my heart broke apart with sadness. i'll get you another puppy the man said. he must have had no children - or maybe no heart. eat your supper kids my parents said as tears slipped down their cheeks before they had the chance to wipe them away and be strong for us. i lived out loud then - wild child - feeling everything, just on the surface and also deeper - laughing and touching and hugging and running like an animal - thinking only enough to get me from one experience to another. when did i stop sensing and living in my physical body? when did the relentless mind take over, analyzing, contemplating, studying the possibilities but never acting on them because of fear? laziness? because i had to stop jumping in puddles and searching for the pot of gold and instead put on pantyhose and pumps and try to remember to keep my elbows off the table. i am a mother after all - have to be responsible - a good example - teach my children to be careful and thorough and do all their homework and open the door for the teacher. i have also taught them to explore, to laugh out loud at life when they might want to cry - to love themselves in all their raw imperfection. but have i taught them to be free - to throw caution to the wind so they can live extremely - completely - never missing a single baby bird peeking over the nest or a patch of violets springing from the dirt, oblivious to anything but life and joy and laughter?