When Black was Black

I remember when brown was the new black…the original new black. When brown was the new black my children were small, I was still married, and a heavy snowfall didn’t fill me with anxiety knowing there was a long driveway to clear before work. 

Long underwear, sweaters, snow pants, coats, hats, scarves, mittens, boots—check, check, check, check, and check. Snow in the days when brown was the new black meant it was time to grab the sleds and head out back where the perfect long steep hill led to a creek that gave sledding an extra element of excitement. You had to know when to abandon ship. Hot chocolate was always waiting. Brown was a good new black. 

But then it was pink. When pink was the new black I started working third shift. Life wasn’t so fun anymore because mom was always exhausted and moody. Pink was the new black for so long that pink became ugly. Now pink is the new heroin; a stronger, synthetic, deadly, legal version…but I digress.

After pink, every color of the rainbow had it’s fifteen minutes of fame as the new black. My life had as many shifts, both bad and good. Orange hit the jackpot with a television series. 

When the world ran out of colors the new black morphed: Monday was my new Friday because I worked weekends, Volkswagen made a New Beetle, fifty became the new thirty (only fifty year olds believe that one), climate change is in the process of making beachfront property the new Atlantis…and the big finish: second is the new first…the new president-elect who came in second in popular votes won the election.

I can’t remember what I did with my time before all this nonsense, but I think life was simpler when black was black.


December 18, 2016

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/moody/”>Moody</a&gt;

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