Red

 

After a decade, I decided to hang those red curtains in the room which I have been using as a temporarily permanent home. It was always used as a place to rest and sleep in until it was time to move onto something better, though that time never seemed to know how to come. Putting up those curtains made the room feel more complete. Like a wall that always wanted to be painted but never was, leaving an unfinished and unkempt feeling. Suddenly, the room settled and spoke of calmness and tranquility on the heels of the realization that, at last, these four walls will, in fact, be a holding place until the much anticipated move to a better land will be made in the not-so-far-away future. Perhaps, within a year.

This knowing that the evacuation will actually happen, brought a sense that I might as well put a little more effort into making this room feel more comfortable and attended to for a brief period of time. The paradox of this feeling hardly escaped my awoken on occasion inner eye. Like the energy of wanting to run no longer had legs sprinting into the future rather directed itself downwards, into the present, determined to stay deeply rooted before being sprung out, as if catapulting from a trampoline, into the carefully created dream, a dream that started to take on physical form.

The red-colored fabric seemed to have matched the red-colored blanket of the same hue, as well as the painted wooden house for the most important resident of the room (on that, later) and complemented the green plants that never asked for water except when the leaves shined and perked up when showered with an occasional drop of the precious liquid and a loving look.

Perhaps, the symphony of colors, now working together as such, played the sounds of freedom and a letting go required to walk away in contentment rather than running away in a displeased hurry. Because being here - a place that once felt like a rest stop or being there - a place of clean beginnings- began to feel the same.