White kitchen walls glared at us when we first moved in our house. Because we didn't have time to remove the carpet in the kitchen (!) right away, we thought perhaps a coat of paint could offer at least something pleasing to the eye.
But the yellow was a mistake.
I always wanted a yellow kitchen -- I could bake sunny foods and laugh in a yellow kitchen -- and luck sided with me when I found an "oops" paint in yellow at nine dollars for the gallon. Never mind that the actual color shouted many decibels louder than the soft hum I envisioned.
We lived with a yellow jersey kitchen for nearly a year.
Which clashed loudly with the dirty brown carpet.
At first, I tried to force myself to like it. I did some meaningful baking, and we laughed quite a bit. But the color wouldn't be quiet.
Now, it's muffled by two thick layers of cream colored paint. The room seems satisfied.
If only moving forward could be as easy as a paint application. If only we could use a roller and a brush to muffle the noise of self destructive thought.
I would paint confidence over doubt.
I would paint ambition over the ruts.
I would paint patience over frustration.
And my walls would house the center of peace.
