December 11, 2000: The depth of a new well

I write in red and its not bothering me. It makes me wonder, “What’s going on?” I’m not a red man! I’ve never been. Red isn’t my favorite color but I do love cardinals. I’m not a fan of red but it makes me think of Johnny Bench and Pete Rose of Cincinnati. Maybe I see it as green or blue. No! It’s purple with pink magic. Red isn’t my color. It’s too bright! It reminds me of my mother’s departure—her lipstick was red. She’d cake it on only to blot it off with a couple of sheets of toilet paper. A kiss goodnight was quickly followed with her soft caring, “See you in the morning.” Red isn’t me! No laugh, not even a childlike giggle. What’s up? Red isn’t me!