I’ve been thinking a lot about color.
Missing it
In the bleakness in some of these recent days.
I’ve been thinking about painting the house of my life.
Primary colors.
I’m talking about the color of love.
The color of honesty,
accountability,
vulnerability,
restitution,
healing.
I want to paint with those.
Painting with the color laughter.
Letting it leave those streaks of beaming gold and yellow across a beloved’s face.
Painting with sunsets,
and trees,
and tears and snot
of conversations long overdue
and apologies I didn’t yet have the grit to make.
Painting with moonlight,
and embraces,
and hot cups of tea
and forgiveness and hope.
Painting with the child’s smile.
Painting with taste.
Painting with sweat.
Painting with breath.
Primary; “of chief importance.”
Primal; “essential, fundamental.”
I want to paint with those.
Paint; “a colored substance which is spread over a surface and dries to leave a thin decorative or protective coating.”
I’d like to paint this house.
I think I’ll paint this house.
I’ll paint it with you.
You can paint it with me.
I’ll set a brush aside.
Take your time.
We’ll get it right.
And if not, we’ll paint it again.
New shades.
New days.
By and by we’ll fill these cracks.
I’m gonna paint this house.