When you're in preschool, You learn about a rainbow named Mr. Roy G Biv. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet make him who he is. Little did you know that every single one of those colors would point a finger into your mind to something later in life.
Mr. Roy G Biv is sitting with you at a table in your kindergarten classroom. It is covered in red glitter and sticky glue stains from where your ideas ran off with you. The first letter in his name is the color that flows out of your cut and scrapes. You learn that it is dark crimson, sometimes a translucent ruby.  Mr. Roy is scrawled at the top of your paper, saying "see me after class". His breath tickles the fire colored wax dripping off your birthday cake adorned in flowers. Red is the back of your eyelids right before the dreams begin.
You learn that orange is the color of fruits and veggies, it is the color of sand pails. Orange is the sunsets filtering through the bleached curtains hung by Mr. Roy. He manipulates the light, casting a shadow theatre onto the mahogany in bright technicolor.
You learn that yellow is the color for highlighting important words and it is the color of the new boy's shoes. Yellow is also the decrepit happy color of the walls of the office where you were told in a not so happy manner that all you had to do was "breathe."  After this the pastel and golden tones were pushed along into a muted mustard. Yellow was the water that you dipped your watercolor brush into to paint the sun for Mr. Roy.
Of course you learn that the grass was colored in green by Roy but he also stapled the mint colored report cards, which listed just how well you were valued. Sage colored branches that captured the spring breeze that were exhilarating to hide behind when the boys came running after you on the playground. Green is the stuffed frog in the nurse's office with a sewn on smile that would grin at you while you waited on the little bench to be told you were "physically fine", even though the hurt was in the form of sadness. It was manifesting itself in every crease and corner of your body.
You learn he has also used his own paintbrushes along the watery blue sky at noon time. Blue is tardy slips because you couldn't force yourself up in time. You learn later that you can not be categorized as blue anymore because now the internalized pain is so much more complex than a just a color. Turquoise was the color of the waters where you first hand experienced what it was like to feel people's eyes on you. Navy are the skies over the city you fell in love with and they will never turn all the way black.
Indigo is the color of your jeans handsewn by Mr. Roy himself. They are gaining holes and rips because you can’t stop climbing higher. Indigo is the color of your teenaged cousin's eye shadow. You sit on her bed with Mr. Roy and watch her careful hand paint a darkening sky over

her lids. It is the color of the pencil cases that hold all the tools needed to create your own sky on long reels of paper.
Violet is the cloud of bags forming under your lashes that accompany the lightning bolts of pencil scratches raining down below. It is the bruises no one asks about and the oil slick smile that accompanies them. Violet covers your childhood bedspread in fuzzy blankets.  Violet is the princess costumes and the shoes that capture the glint in your mother's eye. It is the last color of the sunset before it dissolves into navy and grey.
. During your childhood you encounter Mr. Roy around every corner. His nails tear seams open in the sky filling them with color. His hands are stapled to your wrist which showcase your veins that show through violet and his knees knock against yours where the bruises are tinged blue. Mr. Roy's embrace is not one of splendor nor grace. It is rough edges, harsh movements and pointed memories because
not
all
colors
flow
together.