I must confess -- I have denied my love for you for far too long. Even as a child, when asked what my favorite color was, I was always determined not to give the typical little-girl answer. So I'd say blue. It was Granny's favorite, after all. And then years later, purple seemed to be close enough to you without actually admitting I liked you.
Then I wanted to go through all the obscure names, so seldom did anyone ever have the same answer as mine to that important question. I loved turquoise, champagne, aubergine (as well as had "dark camel" colored hair and "acorn hat" colored eyes -- I took it to the extremes).
And then I settled on buttercream. Which, don't get me wrong in the slightest; buttercream still completely speaks to my soul. It's soft and gorgeous (and delicious in the literal sense) and my husband and I have an affinity for it.
I've been with buttercream for at least six years. It's been a lovely go-around, but I have to admit I feel like I'm cheating you. Of all the shades of yellow, buttercream is my only decidedly favorite hue. But you, pink.... I could never narrow you down to choose just one lovely pigment.
I love blush, I love raspberry, I love ballet pink, I love rose gold, I love deep corals and peachy-pinks and dark pomegranates. I love the hottest of hot pinks, vintagey glass pinks, fuchsia and neon, and literally every shade of Lilly pink that exists.
I can't narrow you down. I can't choose with you. Your whole range of color sings to my soul, but I love you so much I can't get completely infiltrated with you or I feel like I'm drowning. I can't handle an entire wall painted solid pink -- but give me a wall painted with a mishmash of your hues in a pretty watercolor or print or pattern and I'll swoon forever. You are a piece of artwork, pink, and deserve to be celebrated as such. You need texture and richness and light and dimension.
I can't pigeonhole you. And yet it will still take time for me to declare that you, indeed, are my favorite color.
But I'm taking my time. And filling my life with you. Filling this business with you. My wardrobe's another thing altogether (I can only seem to take you in the most roundabout means -- a raspberry-colored coat or mittens, a bright pink floral apron, a hot pink pair of pumps with little silk flowers on the heel... but rarely ever a dress or shirt or handbag). But I love you. Immensely.
And although I've fought it for years, I'm starting to see how you and buttercream can complement one another. I'm not ready to marry you two together yet, but there is room in my heart for both of you, indeed.
Happy Valentine's Day, sweet pink.