Personal Narrative: Blue

I have always been fond of the way the snow-covered trees stick out like sore thumbs against the blue sky during the frigid winter months. When I was seven, I would stand outside for hours swaddled in winter gear, just breathing out puffs of air that would appear in front of me. A buldgy jacket, mittens, a hat, and socks sticking out of my clunky boots. Everything I was wearing matched the blue sky, because god forbid I wore an outfit that didn’t go well together. I’m not sure what had initially caused this color to win me over, but it has stuck with me for as long as I can remember. When I would go to the dentist and she would ask me what color toothbrush I wanted, the answer was blue. When I turned eight and I went to the jewelry store with my grandma to pick out a ring for my birthday, I picked the blue one. She had told me that it would have been smarter to pick a more neutral color, like black or gray, because I would get more use out of it.
“Blue won’t be your favorite forever,” she said. I looked at her like she was crazy.
As time went on and things began to change, I got taller, made new friends and went new places. I remember when I was nine and my dad took me to the bowling alley for the first time; I was absolutely mesmerized by the black lights. They turned my
I was sitting at the kitchen table with my chin resting in the palm of my hand, pouting, and no one in my family was in the mood to deal with my unnecessary brattiness. My eyes were suddenly drawn to the blue cookie monster cookie jar sitting on top of the counter, so I made my way over to it, took the lid off and starting eating the cookies inside. Weirdly enough, that blue cookie jar made me feel a lot better, although now that I look back on it, it might’ve just been the chocolate chip