You, Me, and the Colors of Life

by Noa C. Walker

Janica shrugged, and Heidi grinned. To her daughter, orderly meant boring, and independent equaled loneliness. That’s just how she was: Plain wasn’t good enough, everything always had to be more. To her, buttercups weren’t just yellow, they were “sunshine-on-a-hazy day” yellow. The leaf of a birch tree was “green as verdigris on Grandpa’s coin collection.” A butterfly wasn’t colorful, but a “galaxy of brilliant hues.” And who could begrudge her that exuberance—especially with her past?

“What I’m going to tell you now might sound silly, or even pretentious.” “Go ahead.” “I believe that every person on this earth has a purpose.

Was that what love looked like? Putting yourself second, supporting your partner without reservations, suffering through tough times side by side, working on yourself, celebrating everything you had in common while giving your partner the freedom to retain their idiosyncrasies? He,