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yellow ciiiiiiircle.
He picks up the pastel green chalk to trace the yellow. green ciiiiiircle.
The lines intersect and it’s more of a C than a circle, but it’s perfect because he doesn’t know what that means yet.
He’s onto purple, holding its smooth, unused end to the sky before choosing a spot to make his mark.
He must see every color set against the concrete. Every color widens his eyes. More more. Color, beauty, joy. All that he loves, he doesn’t know why. A mess of stimulussensationfeeling in his little body.
He hops forward — blue dot dot dot!
greeeeeeen.
His tummy grumbles but he does not notice because blue dot dot liiiiiine
Finally, the red. His little feet and floppy sandals carry him around and around. A big red squiggle around the yellow circle and the green circle and the blue dots and lines the purple blob. Around and around and around until the red chalk breaks against a crack in the sidewalk. He can’t stop the momentum in his legs so he lets the change in resistance send him forward. Over his left shoulder, rolling and giggling right through his favorite shapes and colors until his skin and shorts have all the colors too.
He gives himself to the sidewalk where he lands and watches the biggest fluffy cloud float behind the street sign.
A car slows and turns into the next driveway.
A door clicks, and he knows mom’s gaze.
What’s up there, buddy?
He smells vanilla and grass as she lays down next to him, half lawn, half sidewalk.
It’s all the colors. It’s all the colors, mom. In a circle but it’s only part of the circle because it’s so big and I can’t see it. He finds her hand without looking and whispers.
It’s all the colors.