Coats of Many Colors

She is standing there, looking at me. She says nothing, but bends her head first to the left and then to the right, ever so slightly. I think she’s studying me. There’s not a lot to study, because I am plain and simple. I mind my own business and do my job. I have seen so many things in my life. You wouldn’t believe what I’ve seen. You may not want to hear or see what I’ve seen.

In any event, I’m going to err on the side of caution. I don’t want to be known as not being able to keep secrets. If people thought I would reveal parts of their lives they didn’t want revealed, nobody would want me around. This is why I am both discrete and a survivor. I don’t blurt things out and I keep myself to myself. More people should consider doing that, right?

At the moment I am wearing blue, a pale, soft, watery blue that almost smiles. It is my favorite color and I am very happy to be wearing it. If I had my druthers - do people ever say that any more? - I would wear this perfect color forever, for the rest of my life.

I notice she has more gray in her hair than she used to. That’s all right. She still cares about me - enough to keep giving me new tasks to do. Now my two shelves hold paper, stacks of it. Some is new copy paper, but other parts of the piles are recycled, because I know she likes to reuse things whenever possible. That’s what you do when you care about the environment. That’s what she does with everything.

She has placed a printer on my top shelf. Note that I am not very tall, but I’ve always been able to pull my own weight when it comes to doing the work that is asked of me. I simply refuse to sag or buckle, which of course would look less than attractive when wearing this fantastic blue. I know there isn’t a day that goes by without her glancing at me in this corner. Sometimes she stands and looks, like now. Sometimes she brings her hands nearer to touch me. That just about makes me break out into a sweat. I coo, but she hasn’t heard me do that yet. She will. I trust her. After all, she has to be a good person if she gave me this blue.

She is standing there, looking at me. She has just moved me so she can give me a bath. She doesn’t call it that, but I do. She cares enough about me to keep me clean and within her sight. Every day, any time she wants, she can see me and be amazed at how I manage to work so perfectly. I am very simple, you know. I am also quite patient. It is probably one of my best features. 

The secrets I know are not simple, and if I chose to misuse them, to abuse the confidence that’s been placed in me, it could be dangerous. Not necessarily for her alone, because I have had lots of opportunities to observe while carrying out my assignments. She is not the only person who comes in here. 

***

She has given me a white coat to wear now. At first you might think it is a very plain, run-of-the-mill coat, but you need to look closer. This white is kind of pearly beige. It doesn’t shimmer, silly, but I do feel a bit giddy with it on. It goes nicely with everything around me. I’m happy to wear it, even though it’s not my favorite color. Sometimes less is more, and I don’t feel in any way undervalued by being dressed in white. I like it as a contrast to the little painted trinkets from Central America - El Salvador and Honduras, if I’m not mistaken - that are nearby. 

As you can probably tell, it doesn’t take a lot to make me happy. I don’t need a lot, and all I do need she is willing and able to give me. I think we’re going to be friends for a long, long time. Forever, maybe, is forever is real. I think it could be.

***

She is looking at me and doesn’t look very happy. I know why, too. This pink I have on is not my best color. I can tell she’s sorry for what she’s done to me, because she gets it that she’s offended my sensitivity. She had hoped to clothe me in a mauve or antique rose, which looks so nice on some people and looks very nice in some homes. The key word here is ‘some’. I definitely do not belong to the ‘some’.

She looks like she might start to cry, or like she wants to beg me to forgive her. Of course I’ll forgive her, but she has to make things right. She has to get rid of this icky pink. Maybe the color was bought online and doesn’t match the photo there. Or maybe it was given to her and she felt she had to use it. I know she doesn’t have a big budget, so I really need to be understanding. This pink, however, is not going to match anything and I fear I might be relegated to some place that nobody else goes. Rejection, oblivion, disgust - I don’t think I deserve any of those things.

Still, I am a trusting soul and know she’ll come through for me. She will take care of me and both of us will be feeling better soon. She knows I am not a pink thing, just as I never wear frilly coverings or butterfly stickers. I just want to be able to do my job properly and this pink is getting in the way of that. I mean, it practically itches.

***

She is here on the floor next to me, right up in my face. I almost think she wants to hug me. Don’t get me wrong - I don’t mind a good hug now and then. I try not to be demanding and am kind of new here, so I hope I’m not misinterpreting the situation. 

She is all up in my business now, putting the encyclopedias in me. The encyclopedias are pretty ugly. Their dirty brown-red binding with fine gold lettering doesn’t sit well with me. You see, I am varnish-colored. That’s a warm brown, fresh, slick, scented like new furniture. Not that I am furniture. I just thought I’d make the comparison. The encyclopedias have a silly name like Funk and Wagner’s or Funk and Wagnall’s. Or maybe it’s Fluff and Wagons. The name is irrelevant, because they are very special to her - almost as special as I am, I suspect.

Now that the encyclopedias have taken up residence, she often sits on the bed next to me, or gets back on the floor. She pulls out the volumes, just a couple at a time, then puts them back. I understand they have an order, something to do with the first letter on their spines. Otherwise, they all look the same to me. Anyway, I am their place of honor and must assume the responsibility of protecting them. She has trusted me with that important function and I will not fail her. I will not sag or wobble. Ever.

Plus, when she approaches the encyclopedias - I need to add this - she always looks at me and how I frame them nicely, how strong I am, how sturdy my determination truly is. That’s a requirement to be a guardian like I am. She reaches out a hand and runs her slender figures down my face, flattering me and bringing with her ouch a very pleasing feeling. Texture means so much and I am not ashamed of mine. Now one hand is tracing all the lines on my surface, slipping, almost weeping, over me. I am so loved and know already that I will be forever faithful.

***

He has just finished. The last board is cut and nailed. Now it appears he is about to apply a coat of varnish. It’s cheaper than paint and pretty much matches everything. Wood color over wood. Redundant? I don’t think so, plus he doesn’t have a lot of money and he always has some varnish around from other projects. He’s a very kind man and would never give me anything ugly or try to embarrass me. He just wants me to look and feel nice, I’m sure.

My permanent residence is not here in the basement where I was created. I have another destiny, a place where light shines in the windows and she will pat my flanks, thanking me for being good, for a job well done. I just know this is my future because the kind man never did anything wrong. He never wanted to hurt anybody or anything, not even a piece of wood. He worked hard, using his hand-taught skills and arm muscles, to bring me to life. He did his best, then gave me away. I could swear he put a kiss on one corner before he gave me up forever.

The kind man might have wished he had paint instead of varnish to give me, but he didn’t. He might have wished he could make me green instead of varnish-colored, but he didn’t. I doubt if he ever considered yellow as my color, but he could have considered a soft blue. Except he didn’t have any. He did his best, that I know. For his kindness, I will never forget him, even though he left us far too young.

The man - and I, because I am his creation - also knew - and know - that his daughter would take good care of me. The encyclopedias were merely the start of my career and my relationship with her. The only thing left to point out is that the daughter had no idea that my varnished exterior would end up as a perfect celestial (well, maybe not celestial, maybe hyacinth) blue and that she would still look at me like the first day I came into her life. She looked at me that way because I was a gift that was given to her for no reason except to show… well, to show what fits inside three rough-hewn walls with an open mind, er, side. Three shelves, if you count my top, too. Shelter, don’t stifle, remain open. Shift when the winds demand it, stand firm when commanded to do so.

***

Sitting here in the dark, old basement, still naked of any color except the color of wood, I know I will end up being a perfect, beautiful blue. I know she will never leave me. We were made for each other.