Maintaining faith in the designer, I spent hours, days, wondering if I made the right choice with all the brightness. I think my son will like it, so, I took the risk. Becoming a mother changed me. I suddenly became more open to creativities I’d only imagined. Having him gave me the permission to not only embrace, but, bring my inner creativity alive, as I’d encouraged my students to do.
The house was a design I’d never have chosen for myself before my husband died. My tastes were normally simple, more comfortable than anything flashy or colorful. I reserved vividness for a canvas or maybe a bouquet of flowers. But, maybe that’s what I was missing from my life, color to bring out the wide variety of life experiences one person can have. Not every experience creating growth or change stems from a place of excitement, as I learned so heartbreakingly. But, not every heartbreak deserves shades of black or gray to shade the significance.
I’d have given up this new house and everything in it to have my life back with Billy. Not a day goes by I won’t think of him and wonder what he would’ve thought about this new home. Walking through the door would bring back such a flood of emotion, I was sure I’d stumble across the threshold. Somewhere beyond gave me the strength. I’m sure it was him willing me along.
Standing in front of my new home, my son on my hip, my hand on the doorknob, I became tentative, unsure- only for a moment. My stomach bubbled excitedly, my breath came in quick bursts anxiously. He wrapped his tiny hand around the curls in my hair, tugging, giggling at his absolute hold on me.
This opens the door to our new life.
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