Sunday, January 8, 2012

backdrop for memory

What do the colours we surround ourselves with say, I wonder.
For many years, we lived in a townhouse with curtains the colour of papaya, rich and warm.
The walls were as creamy as the inside of a seashell.
And our sofa was a deep, dark blue that was almost green.
I never tired of those colors.
And just remembering it tonight makes me feel surprisingly nostalgic.
Almost home sick.
My husband made the couch and most of the furniture in that little place.
It was a cosy home filled with golden pine.
It felt right after twenty years to move on though.
We expanded into a house.
Our floors are hardwood now so there is still the feeling of wood, but the golden glow is gone, dispersed through many rooms rather than concentrated into a small space as it was.
We have introduced some interesting painted pieces, all with stories.
Now we are surrounded with greens; muted, fernlike, even avocado.
My china cabinet is pale birds egg blue and my side tables are creamy yellow.
I like colour.
I like the unexpected, the hand crafted.
The colour around us every day becomes a back drop for memory.

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