In this freshly painted yellow room, a conversation occurred.
This room was an afterthought in the grand scheme of taking care of a big-ish house. It was the last room to be painted. In it sits a really heavy big box tv on a console that matches nothing else in the house. The walls were plain and there was no where to sit aside from the carpeted floor. The closet is a melting pot of blankets, towels and old speakers. Its purpose was to be a nursery but here it sat, unused, unpainted, unkept.
The can of paint sat in the garage of over a year (perhaps longer) until he got the urge to paint one day. She decided to organize the garage as painting wasn't a favorite home improvement task. By the end of the day, they had a yellow room. A yellow room that was meant to house an infant, a toddler, a child. Instead, it was now the home to an Ikea chair and couch and the big box tv and non-matching console.
It wasn't until the evening while she sat in the room did the purpose of this room depress her. What could have been. What should have been. What might be? Never, in the 3 years of living in this house, has she sat in this room and been struck by such sadness, enough to bring her to tears.
The conversation began. Will we move on? What will this room become? Might it someday fulfill its original purpose? Truths were exchanged. Some surprising, some not. Back and forth we went, repeating the words of 6 months ago. "I want to be done" and "I don't." Back to square one.
In this yellow room, decisions were made. Big plans were scratched out with a hypothetical black sharpie and new plans were penciled in. The idea of a different future is alive. A brand new path awaits us. How it will end, we don't know.
The yellow room awaits an answer and for now, yellow doesn't convey loss and sadness. It brings hope and dreams come true.