I used to grumble about my mother’s choice of colors. She’s so partial to greens. No, I retract that. She seems too obsessed with green.
I could boast of numerous knick-knacks crazily scattered at home, and in shades of green. Kitchen wares. Home accessories. I remember our old furniture: the cabinets; a bench; and a table were all curiously painted green. And there’s the light green curtain to complete the look. The matrimonial kama*, which has undergone so many repairs and repaints but is blessedly alive and still able to offer good rest for our tired backs, was previously in mint green (and now still in green --but a shade darker).There was even a time in the past that she had the part of our walls painted in dark green!
Even without actually getting in our bahay-kubo**, one could correctly assume the owner’s favorite color. It was so so nauseatingly obvious! The jumble and tumble of greens –plants and trees-- said it all. Our place was without a doubt one forest full of greens inside-out!
Like Kermit the Frog, I thought green was too ordinary. So commonplace. For God’s sake, the whole wide world is already colored green. The leaves. The grasses. So so plain, and soooo booooring. I never thought of green as refreshing, or relaxing. How could it be relaxing when it already gets in my nerves? Or that it symbolizes life, birth and all that? Excuse me. Why couldn’t she just get something more colorful? More attractive?
One day in my teenage years, when one could easily be uncaring and crudely upfront, I bravely stood up against authority and blatantly voiced distaste over my mother’s color preferences. I had enough of it. I really had more greens than I could handle. (I do not know if most of my clothes she bought were in green too; because half of my life, I was wearing hand-me-downs) But I had developed an aversion to greens THEN. Quite understandably.
But now, look at me. Mock me then. Me, who acted so bratty and know-it-all. Mock me, because some years later, I ate all my rotten words, swallowed them whole even. I do not know what happened. You know what they say when girls get bad on their mothers and they get the curse? That must be that, huh? So mock me once again.
With me and my mother, you’ve gotta expect something like this will happen.
Oh boy, am I certainly cured with my past aversion! Totally, totally cured. Blessedly cured (!).
When we were deciding which sofa to buy, I picked a green sofa over all other available colors. Not the neat black kind. Or the cool neutral shades. I just had to have that green one. Pillow cases. Cushions. The fridge. The jumble of greens are endless. My son’s toy basket is colored green. His potty trainer. A green non-spillable cup. A green spoon.
And to drive home my point, I edited my blog to hideously refreshing greens. As if the title of this entry was not enough!
I know. I've gone overboard, alright. But truth is, I am happily overdoing it. I know it’s already becoming nauseating.
Madness. Madness. Such madness. I wonder what buddy Matt thinks of all this when he gets older and more than ready to speak his mind.
*kama is a bed made of wood
**bahay-kubo is a small house made of wood, usually from dried bamboo poles