This morning, I stood in the middle of the living room floor staring at the bare white walls that surrounded me. Pictures I’d been meaning to hang for the past three years remained stacked neatly in a corner. The same colorless walls were found in every room of my home with the exception of the kitchen, den and half bath.
I’ve lived in my house for over twenty years now, yet I’ve only painted three rooms. How I’ve managed to survive without color for all these years is beyond me. Yet in still, it’s not. Color would mean, I’ve put down roots.
Allow me to pause here and say, my favorite color is red. I find it exciting, vibrant and invigorating. My car is red as are a lot of my clothes. As I stood surveying my bedroom, I couldn’t help but wonder why I hadn’t painted it red. Suddenly, I realized this moment, this epiphany if you will was a turning point for me. I’d grownup north of the Mason-Dixon line and in my heart, I’d never left home. I decided right then and there, it was time.
I have big plans for my house and yard this summer. I’m going to upgrade my appliances, kitchen and bathroom fixtures as well. I’ve already envisioned the oasis of serenity I want for my deck and yard. It’ll be a place I can retreat to in the evenings away from the cares of life. But most importantly, I’m going to head over to the local hardware store and buy some red paint. After all color means I’ve put down roots.
Savannah J, providing a place of tranquility away from the stress of life.
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