by trogers5 on January 27, 2022
Marelle Hipolito ’22
So dull was the class today that I drew a house. It had a white picket fence. The grass was green and the flowers radiated life. It had five windows, four squares in between maroon brick walls, and one circle inviting a peak of sunlight into the second floor. My pen ink was black, so I could only imagine it, but the door was yellow, yellow, so bright and yellow.
So yellow was the door that all the neighbors talked about it. “Their door is so yellow! Do you know why? All of our houses’ doors are blue and dark brown; theirs does not match and it changes the whole neighborhood. Where do they come from? Why are they here? How are they okay with such a different door? Looking at it is like staring at the sun!”
So many were the neighborly questions that I started to question, too. Why is it bad that our door is as yellow as the sun? Their doors are as blue as the sky and as dark as the earth; together our neighborhood could be the world. How is it so different? Our door opens and closes, just like their doors. It’s in the middle of the house under a circle window and with two square windows on either side, just like their houses. The grass is green and has flowers, just like their lawns.
So dull the questions made me that I finished my drawing. I drew curtains over all five windows, with the circle taking back its invitation to the light. I shaded splinters on the white picket fence, and I curved the stems on the flowers to make them face down. I didn’t have much ink left, and since it was only black, I could only imagine it, but the door was blue and dark brown, just like the rest of the neighborhood.