I don't even particularly like the color red, but when I think about my home and my life and my precious memories, it seems like red plays a prominent part of it all.
My first car was red. My prom dress - red. We were engaged beneath a little red bridge and had wedding photos taken there too. There were red poinsettias that I hadn't placed there on the alter as we exchanged vows. Red walls in our first apartment and a red truck that my husband loved to drive. Even now, five years from those 'first' reds, some of my favorite things in our home are red: the old sled that hangs on the wall with the red wreath and now the birdhouse that my husband bought me just yesterday, built from that same red wood from the bridge where we were engaged. Even our favorite sport's team is the Red's.
Henry loves the color red. Perhaps all this time, all this red, was just preparing me to have this perfect little boy who loves his red blanket, red ball, red tractor, red Mickey shirt...and I love him, little red nose and cheeks.
I suppose red isn't so bad after-all, and like all things, eventually I think I could come to love it.