A few years ago, one of my daughters gave me a pop-up carousel of Crayola crayons. What a dream come true! I reveled in owning a lavish amount of color.
The smell of crayons has always created an atmosphere of possibility for me and brings back happy school memories. When I was a child, teachers gave everyone a slim new box of 8 Crayola crayons—always Crayola—on the first day of school. Now if a school budget manages to cover crayons, it’s often a community collection. I loved having my own box.
Crayon tips had a special beauty, too. Their sharp tips, slightly angled, disappeared fast. In my Crayola carousel, most of the tips are long gone. I noticed that magenta remains unused, along with peach and a metallic gold.
When I journal, a splash or scribble of color sometimes expresses more than words. Turquoise blue, aquamarine, and inchworm (a delicate green) are the most used. One of the best greens became a dog snack. I heard the crunching from another room and rushed to save the crayon. Only shards survived
What memories do crayons hold for you?
2 thoughts on “The Crayon Carousel”
My best crayon memory is sitting in front of our old box fan with my sister on hot days and sticking our crayons through the slats to watch a ring of color magically appear on the center hub. Of course we made lots of robot noises while we were at it (fan/voice reverberation will never get old for me)… I’m pretty sure that our graffiti was never punished.
It’s so true–the smell of crayons can take me on all kinds of feel-good memory journeys. When I was a little girl, I sometimes played with my crayons instead of my dolls and cuddlies, giving each colour its own personality, interests and job.
Now I want to go hunt down my crayons and start arting up a storm!