While walking out to get the mail this weekend,
I glanced back at the house and realized
that my first priority of Spring will be
to paint my front door.
It's navy blue shine has dulled into
a dusty gray-sailboating color-
Lately looking more like
the entrance to a cave
than to an inviting home.
When we first bought the house,
the door was maroon-
that quaint berry cran-applely
wine-tinted country color
that was then the rage of every
I wanted something different.
That's when I chose the ever-popular teal.
Or, at least I thought it would be fashionable
for a long time.
A month after I sanded and primed
and two-coated my door in
it seemed everyone was going teal-
right down to the shutters
and the window boxes.
The color teal grew so popular
that it became boring-
syrupy-sweet like ruffles
and lace and those little geese
that wear raincoats and bonnets.
When I was a child,
our front door was always red.
I still don't know why.
My dad wasn't a flamboyant person-
or a decorator-
but whenever it was time to repaint-
Up went the red-
fire-engine red- and it always looked..
Maybe he was saying STOP- Keep Out-
there are nine crazy children stomping
or perhaps he considered it a warm color-
inviting and uncommon.
But what I really think now-
looking back on it-
I would almost bet that red
just happened to be the
color of paint he found in the garage.
And because old habits die hard,
it stayed red for over forty years.
My current navy blue door
came about during the patriotic surge-
when every house in town posted an American flag-
and red,white and blue petunias
spelled out USA in flower beds.
But now, I'm back to decision time.
and swatches and cardboard samples
and mind-changing maybe's
that all come with choosing
a paint color.
I'm thinking sage, or rust
or a coffee colored brown-
or a nice eggplant perhaps.
I'll just paint it red.
Dad would like that.