Just Don't Paint It Black

When we bought our current house seven years ago, the first room I painted was my step-daughter's, The Artist.  Even though she only lived with us half-time, I wanted her to have her very own space.  She was eight years old at the time and I wanted her room to be magical and creative...inspiring and comforting at the same time.

I'll admit it.  I picked the colors and motif.  The walls were painted varying colors: pink, blue, and green.  Scattered along the walls were cute fairy wallpaper cut-outs and hanging from the ceiling were more fairies.  I liked to think of it as little people to watch over her while she played, slept, and dreamed the sweetest of dreams...

She's fifteen now and she moved in with us full-time about six months ago.  The hanging fairies had been taken down years ago and she's covered the wall fairies with Twilight posters and poems or drawings from her friends.  She's asked me to paint her room several times.  Each time I've blown her off.  I've given her one excuse after another:

"Not all the rooms in the house have been painted yet."

"It's just so much work to paint your room."

"I have too much to do right now."

"I don't have time."

"My bathroom gets painted before your bedroom gets re-painted!"

But mostly I think I just wasn't ready for her to be growing up.  I wanted to hang onto those fairies for just a little longer.  I wanted to tuck her in and wish her sweet dreams.  I wanted to brush her hair and paint her fingernails.  I wanted her to crawl in my lap so I could look into that sweet beautiful face and let her know that there's nothing we can't do together... 

I've cried a few tiny, silent tears this weekend as the fairies came down and the color she picked, Maiden Voyage blue, started taking over the walls.  And I know that I'll still be able to brush her hair, paint her fingernails, tell her I love her, and for just a few more years I *can* tuck her in and wish her the sweetest of dreams.