In Color

Lately I've noticed my color preference has concentrated more on purple and less on green.  When I took a moment to wonder how that happened after almost 10 solid years of loving green, I remembered the first home Tristan and I shared.  The top floor of a old duplex/former meth lab.

Note to new couples:  There are three tests to discerning if your relationship is true:  1) Assembling, decorating and positioning the Christmas tree  2)Taking a road trip across America with no GPS, no radio, no air conditioning, and no hotel reservations  3) Painting your residence.

The first test we passed with flying colors.  Tristan is very artistic and I was determined to prove to my mother that I can be calm and NOT throw artificial tree branches at my significant other, so I let him steer the assemblage and decorating.  The second trip was a huge bonding experience for us, so much that even though we began the journey as "just friends" since we broke up a week before departure, we were back together halfway through the trip.  And the third test is why I no longer like green so much.

We could be having a fantastic day together, but once we entered the home improvement store parking lot, we were at each other's throats.  Then once we walked to the sliding doors, Tristan would stick his hand out by his side and grumble, "Hold this."  Hand in hand, we'd exchange smiles and embark on an epic journey to find the right shades of paint and window treatments.  One lady, whose name I think was Lucy, often became a sort of therapist as we bickered over curtains and smacked each other with paint stirrers.  The biggest debate was what colors we would paint our apartment.

Tristan loves blue.  I loved green.  We both agreed to paint the foyer a warm beige with dark cherry-wood brown on the border, but when it came to the living room and bedroom we were at a standstill.  I HAD to have green.  He needed a room with blue.  In the end, he was able to convince me with an article about colors and moods that a light blue with a dark blue accent wall was perfect to create a relaxing atmosphere in our bedroom.  Once I conceded, he agreed to help me paint the living room a medium green with an army-green accent wall.  Throughout the entire apartment, the wood borders were the same shade of brown.

In retrospect, I should have seen the living room painting adventure as a great sign of love from Tristan.  Not only did he let me choose the shades of green for the largest room in our home, he did most of the painting since the archway was much taller than I am.  The day he finally finished painting that archway, he slipped up behind me in the kitchen and pulled me close in the warmest hug he'd ever given me at that time.  "Well hi!" I giggled and snuggled closer to him.  "What's this for?"

"I just feel very accomplished," he answered with a smile and a kiss on my cheek.

Looking back, I think the reason why I never, ever complained to anyone about how much I hated that stupid green room was because of that one moment we shared.  Because it only took a week before I loathed having an entirely green room that didn't match the warmth of the foyer.  We would sit on the loveseat and recount our work days, or watch movies, or sit on the large windowsill to eat corn chowder, and all I could think about was how much I wished we didn't paint the living room green.  And I knew it was my own stupid fault for insisting so strongly on having green walls, and I hated that my favorite room was the calming blue bedroom brainchild of Tristan's creative genius that I so enthusiastically tried to prevent from happening.

So whenever I wonder what happened to my love for all things green hued, I remember that living room.  Which makes me remember the whole apartment and everything that happened in it, and despite the rough times that did occur, what I remember the best are all the good times.  Tristan and I ripping off wood planks from a beautiful picture window, or huddling in the middle of the carpeted kitchen with candles and wine glasses filled with heart-shaped ice cubes and soda because we had no money for food or decent tableware.    For most of our first month there, which happened to be January, the heater didn't work and we had no sheets for the bed.  It was with scraped-together money that we bought flannel sheets on sale at my old workplace.  Every morning Tristan would wake up a few hours before dawn to go to his early shift, and every morning he would kiss me right before he left.

"I realized that I was happiest when you were in my life.  More."  When Tristan told me that a few weeks ago, that eventful afternoon in which everything I'd given up on was suddenly handed to me on a silver platter, I couldn't help but wonder if that was just another easy line fed to appease me.  But with all these memories, I realize now that he was 100% right.  I was happiest when we were together, and "together" as in side-by-side, experiencing life and exploring the world.

Now we have that again.  And I'm never, ever, ever painting a single wall green again.