It’s time I admit I look for purple everywhere.  I found these dreaming leaves and a tempting mushroom in Cockaponset State Forest this weekend (the photos are untreated.) In stores, I scan clothing racks and my gaze snaps to shades of purple.  If I have to choose game pieces, accessories, or cell phone covers, purple is my default.

My college application essay was about ‘being purple’ and I recall my advisor reading the first paragraph out loud to me just before graduation, in my final week at Cornell, because he thought it would be amusing to look back. I promptly ripped the pages from his hands in embarrassment.  When I left the office, I tossed the essay in the garbage.  I’m a little disappointed I didn’t keep it because I have forgotten its contents and now I don’t know what it means to be purple.  I’d like to know.

Despite all this, I don’t think of purple as being my color.  I actually think of it as being my grandmother’s.  Maybe that’s why I look for it wherever I go.


8 thoughts on “Purple

  1. I wish you had kept the essay, too! I'd love to hear about being purple. I'm not sure how I'd define it, but I like to think I am. It's my favorite color, but for some reason I don't really wear purple.


  2. Melissa, I have been on a purple kick lately myself. Strangely, just today, I was about to tell someone that purple is my favorite color. Then I realized it's not, but for some reason I'm just loving it right now. Thanks for sharing your purple story. 🙂


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