Typically, I find myself absorbed in my laptop at the local café, yet two girls adorned in vibrant hues caught my attention—one in a bright pink shirt, the other sporting electric blue pants and sneakers that echoed the lushness of spring. Their laughter transported me back to my own teenage years, where I sat in my usual blue jeans and black top, reminiscing about a time when colors hadn’t faded from my life.
As I listened to their whispers, I was reminded of my younger self, pre-college, pre-career, and pre-motherhood. I recalled those carefree mall strolls, absorbing the scent of new clothes that were often beyond my budget. Those were days filled with dreams and possibilities.
Now, I find myself deep into adulthood, having crossed off many significant milestones: establishing a career, marrying, buying a home, and raising children. My focus has largely shifted to my sons’ activities, as I navigate the balance of work and their school events. Though I could now indulge in shopping, the reality of time constraints had shifted my wardrobe to the simplicity of black, a color favored by many women in my stage of life.
I glanced out the window, trying to remember the last time I donned red—the color my mother always insisted flattered me. I recalled a pair of red sneakers from college, a red blazer during my early career days in Boston, and a ruby dress I wore to a holiday party that led to a memorable date with a charming guy who asked, “May I have this dance with the lady in red?” But slowly, I drifted away from vibrant colors—only wearing anything bold on vacations, when feeling lighter, or when my mood struck just right.
Reflecting upon my wardrobe, I realized that the colors I wore had dulled over time, mirroring the challenges I faced in life—from parenting dilemmas to losses that grew closer to home. By the end of my 20s, my wardrobe had shifted from reds to muted shades, with efficiency triumphing during early motherhood. The result? A closet filled with black, white, gray, and beige—practical choices that evolved into a monotonous routine.
On my drive to my younger son’s basketball game, I remembered a recent conversation with my mother. “I’ve been wearing brighter colors lately,” she announced. “You won’t believe it’s me.” Intrigued, I asked her what she meant. For as long as I could recall, her closet had been a sea of black, brown, and burgundy. Yet, when I finally saw her new wardrobe, it burst with vibrant colors. “Are you going on a trip? Or a date? What’s happened to my mother?” I chuckled. “Nope, just thought it’d be nice to add some color,” she replied. Perhaps this was her way of rediscovering herself after years of raising us.
That evening, standing in front of my closet, I pondered what had happened to the adventurous girl who once fearlessly rode horses and dirt bikes. More than two decades later, I found myself surrounded by neutral tones and confronted with the realization that I had spent my 30s focusing on why I shouldn’t take risks rather than considering how I could.
Determined to change, I snuck in an hour at the mall and returned with a cabernet-colored blouse, purple running shorts, and a vibrant green cardigan (not to be worn together, of course). When I wore the cardigan, a friend commented, “You look amazing!” at the bus stop. It was the day I accepted an assignment that initially intimidated me. That evening, my husband remarked, “That green looks fantastic on you.” I began to wonder—was it the color itself, or the confidence it instilled in me?
Months later, a priest in a deep amethyst robe shared a thought-provoking perspective on Christmas. Rather than recounting the nativity story, he spoke about how every birthday symbolizes the years someone has illuminated the world. In that moment, I contemplated the dullness often associated with aging and whether our inner light naturally fades or if it can continue to shine brightly through our choices.
It’s been four years since that eye-opening day at the café, and my life has transformed significantly. I pursued graduate studies, volunteered in Peru, and even danced with friends again. Through it all, I’ve learned that being mindful of the colors I wear—regardless of choice—encourages me to embrace what’s possible. Green has become my favorite color; I wore it during my first half-marathon, not only for the challenge but also to demonstrate to my sons that if life blesses you with age, each season offers a chance to flourish.
Summary:
In this reflective piece, I discuss my journey from a vibrant youth to a color-muted adulthood, triggered by a chance encounter with two colorful girls. Inspired by my mother’s recent embrace of bright colors, I realized my wardrobe had become a reflection of my life’s challenges. After making a conscious effort to incorporate more color into my life, I discovered that the hues I choose can significantly impact my mood and outlook. My transformation underscores the idea that it’s never too late to rediscover vibrancy in life.