In case you didn’t know, the color green is, to me, the most beautiful color in the world. There isn’t a shade of green that I don’t like (yes, I even like the shades that look like baby poop).

50 Shades of Green

When I was 15, Dad granted me one of my biggest wishes. That was after he put the solar system on the ceiling above my bed, which glows in the dark. He placed them in a random order, thereby imbalancing the whole system. I think I will tattoo it one day on my arm and piss off astronomers. Anyways, back at that wish. I remember it being around November 2006. Dad bought half a gallon of a pistachio-like color and a lime green one. He transformed my princess room (yes, it was powder pink) into the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen. Mom bought me some new curtains to match the new room color. My mom is very creative and knows which color matches nicely with green. So she got me a green comforter with orange patterns on it.

I believed some beige and a little brown were in there, too. I couldn’t be happier. And then a few weeks later, Dad told me I was never to see the boy I’d been seeing. He found out by reading my messages. I thought it was the end of the world. In retrospect, I will always thank my father for wanting to protect me and for insisting that I wasn’t ready to date. I wonder if his approach would have been different, more understandable, less hostile, and more loving, and I would have followed his instructions immediately and not fought it. Teenagers need guidance, and sometimes they need to hear things they don’t want to hear, but parents, if you have their hearts from the start, they will be (somewhat) easier to guide (please trust this childless pedagogue on this).

I Guess This Is Growing Up?

Fast forward 20 years, obviously not 15 anymore. I don’t live at home anymore, and my baby sister occupies my old room. The room is hers now and has been exclusively for the past 5 years. It’s funny how time changes everything. This year, she finally decided that she was changing the room color. I jokingly told her that she was not allowed to. There was no stopping her, and before I could blink twice, my old room had been transformed again. Not even a trace of the lime green has been left behind. I won’t reveal my sister’s color of choice. That’s too private. She’s probably already annoyed that I’m mentioning her this much in a story without her consent. 

Verdant Safe Haven

The room is not mine anymore. The four walls that have seen me play by myself for so many years of my early life (my siblings were born after I was 9). The room that had seen me in all my moods, seen all the best (and the worst) parts. The room I got to share with my sister for a few good years. The room that I teased her in and made her go ballistic before bedtime (I’m sorry). My room, the sanctuary that made me feel safe so many times. The place that I ran to when I wanted to escape and hide. My biggest secret keeper and my confidant (well, duh, walls can’t talk, thank goodness). 

Why Aren’t You Sad? Get Sad!

What surprised me the most isn’t my sister’s taste (she got that from mom, I’m sure), but the fact that I thought that this transition would hurt more (or maybe I’m unconsciously hiding my feelings, but I know myself, and I doubt it). Maybe it’s because I knew that this would happen eventually. Perhaps I (or my old anxieties) prepared me for this moment. 

What does hurt is that my passport will expire in 2025, and I will no longer be a ‘burger van Rotterdam.’ That was bound to happen, too. The end of the last thing connecting me to my second home, but my love for 010 will always be eternal.

Since I confirmed that my dad has been reading my blogs, I had to keep this article PG-13.