Maroon

Ccc

Maroon looks like a knitted blanket stretched out to fit all of the children as we bunch up on the aged over sofa. Our feet tangled in the blanket, saving us from the chilled bite of the floorboards in winter. The warmth of our breath becoming one, our cheeks a rosy pink. Me under the blanket, looking through the holes in the stitches as the light streams through in tiny specks.

Maroon sounds like a gentle drizzle tapping on the foggy windows, telling us to greet the upcoming shower, quieting the roar of laughter. The fire a distant crackle, warm and dancing about, illuminating the acorn oak floorboards, creating a symphony of peace.

Maroon feels like the warmth of the night, the sheets welcoming but crisp from the day, waiting to be reheated. The covers floating down, resting perfectly in the shape of you. The pillow squishing down to hold your head, guiding you to a dream so comforting that you wish to never get up.

Maroon smells like cinnamon, coffee, and chopped wood lingering in the air, welcoming you to a new day that has been so patiently waiting for you. Something so familiar that we almost don’t recognize it, but crave once we don’t have it.

Maroon is the joy of Christmas at the family cabin, the tree decorated and glistening in collected memories, festive colored stockings hung above the fireplace, stuffed full of sugar and trinkets. A mellow mizzle outside some days, and others perhaps a crunch of the snow from deer prancing about, celebrating with us.

Maroon tastes like a spoonful of honey and sugared hazelnuts melting on your tongue. A tender sweetness. Our parents telling us to slow down and savor the taste.

The color of comfort.