I don’t remember my first word or my first memory. The first texture I ever felt or the first smell I ever smelt. I don’t even remember my first stuffed animal. But I do remember my first favorite color. Pink. Pink everything. Pink pink pink. If it was pink, I had to have it. Don’t ask me why. It just was. Pink was it. Rose, blush, pepto-bismal. Who cares, if it was pink it was MINE. Perhaps most significantly ingrained in my rather weird collection of childhood memories is my first imaginary friend. Well, not so much a friend. Not even a sentient creature of any kind. Well, ok, not even a conscious being. Pink carrots existed in my screwed up little head the way a dragon or a dwarf or a talking dog might in another child’s.
Pink carrots were and are exactly as they sound. Carrots-a typically orange, sort-of conical vegetable that bunnies eat. Except they were pink, like the pink ghost in PacMan. I think his name was Pinkie, but I might be wrong. He was definitely my favorite.
Such a horticultural phenomenon existed only in my mind, and I loved my pink carrots more than words can express. They were the best. I never ate them. I took them everywhere. They watched over me, much like an angel, except they really didn’t do much but lie there.
Pink carrots were the best. And much like the many stories of the creation of our vast world and the universe at large that humans have been making up for millenia, all I know is that one day they weren’t there and the next they were. Even the Big Bang theory of the universe cannot say what caused the…big… bang. It just happened. So too did Pink Carrots. And they are way more miraculous than the universe. They’re pink, for Christ’s sake.