Color
Green. The rolling green hills of the Smoky Mountains, the place where you lived, the place that always suited you. It was the place where I always felt nestled in, where we sat outside and laughed and ate corn on the cob. I daydreamed about moving so I could be closer to you, so we could always spend our days like this.
Green, the color of the leaves that hot summer day when we put on our suits and rode inner tubes down the river, when I shrieked and squealed with every bump and you poked fun at me as only a sister can.
Green. The lush, wide field of flowers that we hiked through on our way to the mountains. So many hikes, so much time with the trees witnessing our laughter and hearing our stories. My heart always felt so full after those times, knowing how lucky I was to speak two unspoken languages -- the language of sisters, the language of nature.
Green, the lush lawn in front of Grandma and Grandpa’s house, where we crawled around on our knees, pretending to be puppies, where we put on talent shows and sang and danced. We spent entire afternoons creating worlds with no more than sticks or a few scraps of wood, our imaginations running wild and free.
Green, the color of Edgar’s ears. Edgar, friend to Ginger -- two felt mice that we made during one of my visits to your house. We learned together, made our little friends, gave them names and stories, even took a picture of them together under the Christmas tree. It was silly and creative and just the sort of thing that adults don’t do -- and that’s exactly what I loved so much about being with you. We never felt the need to be grown ups. We never left our wild and silly parts behind.
Green, the color of your stuffed alligator Alley, the one we picked up during one of our Florida trips as a kid. Alley, who still sits in your bedroom, unsure where he belongs now. He rests next to so many other objects that will never be loved quite as you loved them. Sometimes I wonder - who will be Alley’s friend now? What will happen to all of these treasures, all of these things left behind?
Green, the color that soothes me, the color that feels so fresh and inviting and alive. The color that feels like air. Air, that still feels so hard to breathe, because you cannot. I miss that fresh green space. I haven’t figured out how to take a deep breath without you.
Green. The bits of moss that I saw on my hike yesterday, standing out amongst all the dead and hibernating things, an endless landscape of gray and brown. Truthfully I was glad there was no color. I’m not yet ready for a lush green world, for a world that feels vibrant and alive. But I noticed the green and thought, “There it is. Those little bits of life are hanging on. They are still finding their way through.”