“A tribute to Miranda’s old room” Our old house in TN was located in a very, very typical subdivision. Modestly priced houses, dressed in beige siding. Stuffed full of lovely and practical beige furniture, and sparkling beige cars in the driveways. Ok, it wasn’t THAT bad, but you get the idea. When it came time to paint the inside of our house (yes, it too had beige siding) my beloved then pre-teen chose orange. Not a pastel orange, not a subdued or diluted orange. A bright, bold, and beautiful orange. All four walls sang citrus songs night and day, and we even got her some orange bedding to match. The reactions from most of the adults usually involved a gasp, and slight head shaking. I was often asked in amazement if I “let” her do that, and I’m sure my parenting skills were questioned upon entering the room. The time came to move and sell the house, which of course meant a major re-paint of its interior. We reluctantly chose to go with beige, as we knew it would bring more value and hopefully more money. While re-painting Miranda’s room I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I felt as though we somehow had sold out. Part of me wishes I would have had the guts to leave those walls orange. You couldn’t help but cheer up or feel excited when you walked in there. Looking back I realize now that Miranda’s orange walls were not only rebellious in nature, but they were also a welcoming site when the world just got to boring.