When I was a teen, I got to redecorate my bedroom. My inner child wanted lots of yellow so I painted the walls this light yellow and got matching curtains and bed spread. A happy yellow.
Three years ago, going through my divorce, it was hard and I wanted to give up. I just wanted to up and die. I had this vision of seeing my now bedroom lit up by a bright cast of yellow light. It gave me hope that someday the shit would be over and brightness would return.
Last year, there was a conversation of your move to Winona and how you knew it would be bad for a while yet you saw us together somehow maybe much later. I could see that really clearly and in that vision I saw a tiny yellow cottage and it was like a sappy sweet Thomas Kincade painting. I have this tiny tiny sliver of hope of that vision coming true. Today it feels totally lost - that there's no hope. Just pain. I guess there's always maybe. Or is it yellow because I'm a coward, afraid to let you go.