I was thinking what to write about when something suddenly popped into my head - CRAYONS! Yes! I loved crayons as a kid and even when I got older. There's just something happy about seeing all those colors, however basic they were, then using them to light up a page.

I'm not much of an artist. I do better than stick figures, but nothing life-like. I once took art lessons as a kid. And I did not enjoy it. For one, I wasn't good at it. You know drawing and coloring some object and approximating what it looked like?

I remember apples and watermelon. Most of the time, I came up with decent output because the art teacher helped me! So, no, art lessons didn't bring out the artist in me.

Eventually, out of necessity I learned to draw and color. That's how I produced two original storybooks for my creative writing classes in high school. Aside from the story, we needed to illustrate them. I passed, although it's probably not because of the artwork.

Color within the lines

Anyway, back to crayons. Next to books, which I loved, there were always coloring books and crayons around the house. Remember "don't color outside the line"? I took that very seriously. Shrinks would probably read into that and relate it to my personality.

But I just liked it neat. Coloring book pages colored every which way, and three colors on top of each other plus outside the lines made my nose wrinkle. So I was always proud of the work I did.

Back then, if you had a box of crayons with the most basic of colors - red, blue, green, yellow, black, brown, orange and violet - you were good to go. It was all you needed.

More colors

Then I discovered there were other colors, and bigger boxes of Crayola - 12 and 16. For the former, there was now white, pink, indigo, and gray in addition to the original 8. Then they threw in blue violet, blue green, red violet, yellow orange, red orange, yellow green, and the color wheel was expanding.

The box of 24 already blew my mind, until I saw the 48s! It was a sea of colors and kids were already imagining so many additional hues to make each colored page pop out, even if it meant coloring a dog lime green!

But what I eventually aspired for was the box of 64. That was a goal for me. I don't know why... And I don't quite recall when I was finally given that, or if my folks got it for me, or if someone gave it as a gift. It's all a fuzzy blur. All I remember was how excited I was to receive that box.

It's not just the variety of colors and shades. It was the sharpened crayons, with wrapper still in place. And the smell of crayons that was so fascinating. Then when you started using them to color and it was confusing to pick which shade would look better. And hey, skin color was no longer confined to brown or beige, but to other skin tones!

Another form of therapy

Crayons and coloring books were therapeutic for me. Well, I didn't know it then as a kid, but as I got older and I would sit down with little ones to color along with them, there was this sense of achievement and fun after completing every page. And I could do 3 or 4 pages in one sitting.

It was an enjoyable activity growing up, especially if you were doing it with a bunch of other kids. I noticed that personalities tend to pop up when coloring.

There were those who wanted to get it over and done with, so they'd color fast without regard for what it would turn out after.

Then there were the thoughtful ones, always analyzing which colors to use. And the ones like me, who always made sure to color within the lines, and in one direction only.

There were also those who were bold and gaudy, using heavy strokes and while it seems bizarre at first, the finished page always jumps out at you because it looked fantastic!

Big box of crayons

As an adult facing all the craziness of life, I still found solace in coloring books. When I went to a bookstore and would happen to see the shelves with crayons, I would sometimes hear it calling out to me so I would pick up a box, then head to the shelf of coloring books.

When we were spring cleaning once, we unearthed boxes and boxes of old crayons, all of them used up (of course) and half-finished coloring books. When we put them in boxes, I think we completed a couple of boxes and gave them away to public daycare centers.

I don't know why I suddenly thought of crayons. Or that dream of acquiring the Box of 64. When I googled Crayola, I was flabbergasted to see it now has a box of 152! My gosh! That is all colors of the rainbow and then some. And it's quite expensive, too.

Then I thought about it... do kids even enjoy coloring books nowadays? All I see are their noses glued to gadgets and devices and computers. Yeah, those are all visual, but where's the imagination in that?

How can all that screen glare be soothing to the eyes, to the soul? The mere stroke running a crayon up and down until an image is fully colored can actually be hypnotic, especially when you're so focused on the activity. Then selecting which color to use next, and returning the first one to its place... there's order in what you're doing.

And when you color a page or an artwork, there's this pride after laying down the last crayon then examining your work, checking for empty spaces or over the lines. Then you smile.

Yes, crayons still have the ability to make me smile. Even just the thought it. Perhaps, I can go on a trip to the bookstore and check out if they still print coloring books. And yes, I have to check out which box of crayons they have available. I'm excited just thinking about it.

Photos: Unsplash