You Choose Color

Every time we move, I end up painting a little bit. Or the whole house. It just depends. I’m not moving now, but our life is about to shift. One of my wise foreign-service friends once said to me, “I will live in this house for 104 weeks. If I spend two weeks painting it on the front end and two weeks painting it back at the end of our tour, I will have enjoyed 100 weeks of a homey, warm environment.” She was right. Paint matters.

One particular week was super weird for me. Number 1 graduated. Shortly after, I dropped her off at the Metro station to go to ATL so she could go to Europe for eight days. Number 2 went to Parris Island for MCJROTC boot camp. While he was gone, I painted his room. He’ll be moving out of it and into a smaller room to make space for Foster kids. Like many times before, I was painting the walls thinking about the people who will sleep in there. I consider their dreams, their mornings, and their quiet sobs on pillows. I do not yet know the history of those who will inhabit these beds, but I am already caring for them. It’s like pregnancy and different.

Number 1 will move to college in August. She will inhabit a dorm downtown, but in our home, she will lay claim to a top bunk in her sisters’ room. Her old room may also inhabit unknown faces. I painted over the coffee shop themed, burnt orange walls with a gentle, neutral beige.

For whatever reason, I seem to always remember the names of paint colors. In one house it was Brazil Nut and Summer Sage. It’s been Sahara, Lemon Cake, Unicorn, and Pumpkin. When the previous inhabitants of one of our spaces has left walls with unlabeled paint cans, we name them ourselves. Some we remember not so fondly are Smog, Toothpaste, and Bowling Alley.

The color in one of our new rooms is called Pebble Gray.It’s a very soothing color. It feels fresh and clean and has a little bit of blue.

Several months ago, I moaned to one of my kids' mentors saying, ”She’s going to leave me!” This wise woman who has been gently guiding my 17 year old said to me, “Oh, dear one. That’s what you raised her to do!” It’s true. I should blame myself. Helping them to become self sufficient was the easy part. Realizing that they don't need me as much is a bit harder to swallow.

(The one in the cap and gown is Number 4. She's going into 7th grade. The real graduate is wearing the striped dress.)

I can’t tell you anything about the kids we will house except that they will be teen sibling groups, but I can tell you what I’ve done so far to prepare. We’ve attended 26 hours of parenting classes complete with tests and role-plays. We’ve been CPR certified, had drug tests, bought fire extinguishers, and CO2 detectors, We’ve purchased extra beds, sheets, and towels. We’ve filled out references and gotten physicals. I think we are more ready to parent than we were 17 years ago when we brought home our firstborn and made her a bed in a laundry basket.