Orange

She had seen those stickers in my drawer before, whenever she went looking for surprises. Her curiosity didn’t truly notice them much, so they would get pushed aside for a bracelet I’d taken off the night before, or a colored pen I keep in there for late-night note-taking.

She had even helped me place one the day before.

But this morning, as I opened it to put back my inhaler, she saw them—and it felt like a moment worth soaking in.

“Ohh, stickers!”

Like it was the first time they had encountered each other.

“Would you like one?” I asked.

“Muchas,” she negotiated.

I responded, “We only need one, remember? You can help me put it on the calendar again.”

Gently, she began peeling the sticker, bringing it off its paper in slow motion. She then held it on her thumb and looked at me, like asking, now what?

I held her up and looked at the calendar; the recent memory rushed in. We put one on yesterday, in a rush. I snapped a quick photo to send my slicers as a cheer for the final stretch.

“Goes there, mama!” she announced.

I pointed at the space for 23, and she placed the sticker on it. I said, “Another day of writing!”—which was kind of cheating, because I hadn’t truly written yet. More like a promise that I would 😉

She then began counting all the other orange dots, expressing the abundance.

“A lot of orange, mama!”

It truly is a lot of orange, and it’s not even a color I like. Somehow, though, orange has connected itself to moments worth appreciating—not just as small stickers marking a day lived and recorded, but in other orange views throughout my days: the glow on downtown buildings at sunset, a candle burning low, traffic cones and detour signs all over my street. Warmth I didn’t ask for, but feel so grateful to welcome in.

23 orange dots that began with her. She’ll help me place the last eight of the month.

A promise to stick to this happiness-inducing habit, and a commitment to model a creative life for her.