Colors of Life
Every day is a blank canvas. What colors will you choose?
The painters spent three days transforming the house. I chose mocha for most of the walls, with a steel blue for my bedroom, and a pop of calm in the living room against warm tones. After the paint dried, I stood in the doorway and noticed the blue was much lighter than I had expected. As I looked around, it hit me: this was the identical color from my childhood bedroom.
Have you ever wondered how colors leave their imprint on us through the years? Standing in my home, decades removed from childhood, I realized: moments may fade, but color and the feelings it carries stay.
In my childhood bedroom, everything was light blue and white: the canopy bed, the wood-paneled walls, and the high-pile carpet that was plush and soft. That room held so many memories (and secrets). With the door shut, I would spend hours on the floor playing with my dolls, sometimes lying back and running my fingers through the carpet, sometimes writing poetry. Blue reminded me of the sky and the freedom of it.
In the blue room, sometimes this is how I felt; other times, I escaped to the vastness of the sky, counting clouds during the day or stars at night. In this room, imagination was my refuge. I imagined a million different ways for my life to unfold. The unfolding happened in color.
Then blue gave way to green and gold, the colors of my boarding school. These colors gathered me in, wrapping me in a sense of belonging. They weren’t just school colors; they were the palette of my teenage growth.
We were 150 girls from 40 different countries, divided into two color teams yet united by love, laughter, and the bonds we built together. We were girls from all over the world; the only colors that mattered were green and gold. One of my fondest memories is of our candle marches, a tradition where seniors said farewell to underclassmen. Dressed in pajamas, we would gather under the night sky, holding candles and singing songs.
The warm, flickering light reflected on our faces, weaving us together in a tapestry of memory and emotion. It was where my love of music was born, where I felt the strength of true sisterhood, and where I will always remember feeling loved.
This color is orange, the soft, glowing hue of candlelight.
I received so much more than bonding or sistership at boarding school. I became Chellie, a gift given by a dear friend, a nickname borne from love. In her eyes, I was funny, kind, and special. I remember our friendship always.
Back then, I held one color, or maybe two, at a time. I didn’t yet know that I could hold them all. I didn’t even know I wanted to.
When I moved to Los Angeles, my world burst into pink and yellow. I was determined to be happy, and these bright, joyful colors became my companions. I told people yellow was my favorite color because the sun is yellow, and she is always happy.
I wasn’t always happy. I was still trying to prove to myself that I could be. I illuminated my apartment with scented candles. The glow of the light washed a peacefulness over me and filled the room with the sweet scent of vanilla.
One day, I asked my daughter if she wanted to paint the kitchen. Her eyes lit up. Before I could take the offer back, she put the car keys in my hand and we headed straight to the paint store. An empty bag of lime-flavored potato chips became our inspiration. Armed with rollers, paint sticks, tape, edgers, and a stash of Red Vines and candy bars, we settled in to paint together for the first time. We chose a bright yellow to match the chips and a deep hunter green for the border. Hours later, as we stepped back to admire our work, I burst out laughing. The walls were a vivid yellow with a bold green trim.
“We just painted the kitchen green and gold!”
Green and gold had never left me, not the paint and not the feeling: sisterhood, love, joy. We looked at each other, paint-streaked and happy, and decided to leave it just as it was. It was meant to be.
Some time after, when I bought my own home, accent walls were all the rage. I chose a gray-blue shade to complement mocha tones, painting my bedroom in that same calming hue. Only after the paint dried did I realize it was the same shade as my childhood walls and carpet. I smiled at the recognition. Somehow, coming back to that color made me feel safe again. At home. At ease.
Blue, the room I started in, was also where a lot of sadness began. But aren’t we all allowed fresh starts on new canvases?
The blue I have in my home now feels calm. I no longer try to be happy; there is true happiness in me. I still find reflective moments outdoors. Solitude doesn’t frighten me anymore; it steadies me. It refreshes me. It guides me to where I need to be.
Maybe the colors, like memories, return over time to greet us, after we’ve relinquished pain or sadness, so the palette and canvas can offer fresh meanings, new perspectives, and deeper interpretations.
What if we viewed each moment, each color, like walking through a museum, pausing before works of art that are beautiful, haunting, or both? There were times I gave up certain colors because they were reminders of pain. Later, when I was ready, did I call those colors back? Or did they quietly wait for me to return, ready to help me reflect and create a new vision?
My life today is blue, green, gold, orange, pink, and yellow, and all of the colors and experiences yet to come.
Each day as the sun rises, a new canvas is revealed. Every day is an opportunity to paint your life with whatever colors or brushstrokes you choose. Who knows, maybe you will mix colors, create new shades, and try something entirely new. Whatever you choose, paint with joy and love.
This reflection pairs with “Tapestry” by Carole King, a soulful song that celebrates the beauty and complexity of life’s woven moments. Its gentle melody and evocative lyrics mirror how colors, memories, and experiences intertwine to create the fabric of who we are.
💌 From My Heart
If this story spoke to you, I’d love to hear: what colors have shaped the chapters of your life? Is there a color that reminds you of a time you belonged, dreamed, healed, or came home to yourself? Have any colors you once set aside quietly waited for you to return? I’d love to hear your story.
Please click the heart, leave a comment, or share this piece. It helps me know that these reflections on presence, listening, and quiet acts of care are not only meaningful for me, but may also resonate with you.
With gratitude,
Chellie 🩷
Chellie Grossman is a Certified Life Coach, Keynote Speaker, and Writer who empowers leaders to reclaim their voice, embrace their strength, and lead with authenticity and purpose.
My colos are purple and gray. Chellie, what does that say about me? 😁 (Chellie calls my apartment The Purple Palace.) Anywho, this is another heartfelt piece, and I hope it makes everybody think more about the meaning of colors in their lives.