Red is for the apple that grows on my uncle’s farm, ready to be turned into a pie or cobbler.

Red is for the lips of that raven-haired woman on the subway, whose gaze I caught for a fleeting moment before my train pulled out of her station.

Red is for the last bits of sunlight as it vaults over the mountain, providing a final moment of illumination before moving onto the other side.

Red is for the stop sign at the street corner, which tries to improve the safety of the street for the school children to cross on the way to classes.

Red is for the uniform of the security teams on the original “Star Trek”, who you know were never going to beam back to the ship from that alien world.

Red is for the the last side of the Rubik’s Cube that took you so long to finally solve.

Red is for ketchup, which tries its best to make your stale, poorly salted french fries taste better.

Red is for Elmo, and the resurgence in sales for Sesame Street merchandice, stacked like furry cordwood in the toy boxes of preschoolers.