Synesthesia

You associate colors with things that don't have color (or, sometimes, with things that don't even have shape, or form, or substance).

White with snow - but not how snow looks, how snow feels when it's just invisible sparkles in the air and small enough that, when you breathe in, the little shocks of cold hit the back of your nose and freeze the hairs inside

Red with the urgent and unexpected sudden-kid-need to pee

Orange with staying up all night to do something unpleasant: homework or cleaning or packing or throwing up the remains of the party because you're apparently too old to drink like that anymore and you can't just self-medicate with greasy food and be okay

Yellow with the crayon and powdery uncooked rice smell your kindergarten classroom had

Green with your frustration at the way cheap shiny fabrics snag on the tiny whorls of your fingers, when what you want is for your hands to glide smoothly and coolly across the surface

Blue with the limp warm feeling you get after stretching in bed on weekend mornings

Indigo with stickiness, and - separately - with guilt

Violet with the tingling moment of silence right after lightning flashes

Pink with how wearing sandals makes you aware of your toes

Black with the memory of burying your face in the silky patient neck of the dog you had as a kid, and with forgiveness