Summer I Turned Pretty: Free Coloring Pages

The summer of 1998 was a transformative period in my childhood. I was ten years old, and the sun seemed to shine brighter, the ice cream tasted sweeter, and the world seemed a little larger but also a little smaller, all at the same time. This was the summer I turned pretty.

Here, I'm not referring to any immense physical transformation, but rather, a shift in my perception and understanding of my own identity. I discovered new aspects of my creativity, confidence, and self-expression that summer, and I can trace it all back to one simple activity: color, and my newfound love for it.

The World in Color

The summer began when my mother bought me a new set of coloring pages and an assortment of colored pencils. Until then, my world was a bit black and white, or more accurately, filled with generic Crayola colors that didn't quite match the vibrancy of summer's blooming flowers. But these weren't ordinary coloring pages; they were intricate, hand-drawn illustrations of vibrant, exotic birds, lush rainforests, and mythical creatures.

Each page was a doorway to a new world, a masterclass in colors waiting to be explored and brought to life by my pencil tips.

Exploring My Palette

Initially, I was tentative. My confidence was still a delicate bird, testing its wings. I began with the colors I knew, the safe ones - blues and greens like the skies and seas around me. But soon, I found myself reaching for bolder hues: fiery reds and oranges of summer sunsets, the rich, earthy tones of autumn, and the shimmering golds and purples of dreams.

Each color was a new language, and I was learning to speak terrified but fascinated, eager to paint my world with words yet unsaid. I filled my rainbow parrot with the same hues as my aunt's fiery hair, a shade I had never seen before but now needed on my paper. I discovered that each color had a name, a history, a story, and I felt like a discoverer in a vast, unexplored realm.

Coloring Beyond the Lines

Once I graduated from cartoons to intricate illustrations, coloring within the lines became a challenge. I struggled, felt the familiar pang of incompetence, but then, something magical happened. I realized I didn't have to stick to the lines. I could embolden a butterfly's wings, giving it a color power beyond its small frame. I could weave a story using the colors I chose, a tale of rainbows and dragons, forgetting that the lines were meant to delineate mere content.

My coloring pages were no longer just pictures to be filled with colors. They were canvases, and I was an artist, creating tales of courage, adventure, and beauty. I found my pretty, and it had nothing to do with physical appearance. It was my spirit, my imagination, my voice that made me pretty that summer.

Sharing My Colors

An artist is only complete when they share their art. So, I started sharing my colored pages with everyone around me. I gifted my grandmother a coloring page of a serene river scene at sunset, coloring it in soft, soothing shades. I handed over a page filled with stars to my brother, who loved looking at the night sky. My mother framed several, treasuring each one.

Each page was a handwritten letter, a conversation starter, a shared memory. Through these colored pages, Iflies were no longer just birds, but messengers of joy. Trees were not just flora, but testimonials of life's seasons. Mountains were not just peaks, but challenges to overcome.

Creating a Community

By the end of the summer, I had colorfully filled every page from the set. I wanted more, not just for myself, but for others too. I started drawing my own pages, incorporating details from our neighborhood - the ice cream parlor, the old oak tree, the fire station. I left some pages blank for others to fill, creating a community art project.

That summer, pint-sized artists dotted our neighborhood with colored pages, each one a testament to our shared love for colors. We celebrated our individuality yet unity, each of us turning pretty in our own way.

Years later, as I look back at the summer I turned pretty, I realize it was not about colors alone. It was about expression, about finding my voice, my identity, my courage. It was about discovering that my 'pretty' lies not in my appearance, but in my spirit, my imagination, my voice. And that's the most beautiful realization of all.