Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

I knew that there were painters working on my porch (presumably sent by my landlord), but I didn't realize until yesterday what they were doing.

They are painting over the bright blue trim on the white stucco house and making it gray instead. Boring, awful gray.

Makes me want to hire a gay hit squad.

Okay, maybe the bright blue was a little tacky, but it was cheery and it made me feel at home. It reminded me of my mom, who can be a little tacky, too.

Mom always chose bright colors for painting the trim on our house and garage. We went through bright blue, turquoise and now pink.

She would always do these paint jobs by herself, not requesting or desiring help. If you insisted on helping, the most she would usually allow would be that you kept her company and talked to her while she painted, taking great satisfaction, it seemed, over the bright streaks of color slowly covering up the faded paint beneath.

What usually happened was that you'd be sitting on the porch with her, swinging back and forth on the porch swing, and she'd say, "The porch really needs painting." Then she would get a thoughtful look in her eye and you would just know she was planning something.

We never got a say in the color choice. She would simply announce it, say, at the dinner table that night. "I think I'm going to go with turquoise this time."

Sometimes she got a little creative with her painting. Her old, wooden garage doors have square panels on the front. She painted every other one turquoise. My sister, who was still living at home, complained that it looked like a tic-tac-toe board.

"I like it," Mom said simply. And it stayed.

So I knew she would understand my dismay at the paint job being forced on me. I called her on the phone to complain about it.

"Poor Allie," she said. (She's the only one allowed to call me that.)

She was tickled when I told her that the paint job reminded me of her. We talked about her latest painting projects for awhile. By the time I hung up, I was smiling again.

It wasn't until right now, writing this, that something occurs to me. I liked the blue trim because it reminded me of Mom. But if that's the case, I shouldn't worry. All I need to do is phone her and suddenly, my gray will be bright blue again.

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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