I've never really pondered pink previously.
(Strangely, pink is a lot of words that start with "P".)
The other day the washing machine consumed an entire load of pink.
No red. No white. No blue. Nothing patriotic about pink.
But rather, soft and gentle - like that bear in the toilet paper commercial.
Easy does it.
Pink has feelings too.
Pink says "I'm here. I want to please you, but I need your help."
"Take good care of me because I tarnish and change color easily."
"I bruise."
"But I will love you. Be kind to me and I will always smile back at you."
Like a good poem, pink is poignant.
Pink is a soft "coo", a gentle smile.
And a harsh scream.
Yes, pink can be piercing if you're not careful. If you leave it alone for too long.
Pink is pleasantly surprised by "peek-a-boo".
And perturbed when you put it down.
On the tail of pink come princesses and tea parties and ponies.
But ponies are ok - because ponies mean cowgirls.
Cowgirls kick ass.
It's easier than you might think to think of my little 7 pound 4 ounce baby girl kicking ass.
Especially when I look around at the scene today.
I think to myself,
"What in the world kind of world
Will she be living in by the time she's old enough to date?"
And when that day comes,
In 30 years
I hope pink has shown her how to handle all things.
To be hard and soft at the same time.
To give without expecting.
To let tears of joy wash away the other kind.
To know that sometimes it pays to wait.
Pink promises a pregnant pause.
Then unapologetically pledges "I love you".
Red is the love a man promises his wife - passionate and unending.
But pink is the love he gives his daughter.
Pure and simple.
Short and sweet.
Just as permanent.
For Montana
jmn
7/18/15