The Colour of Love

Filed Under (Family, Inspiration) by Estee on 13-02-2012

I love colour. After my separation and divorce, the colours I picked for our home were all grey. As first couple of years separation passed, and then meeting someone very special and having lots of friends and laughter in our home, I’ve been picking more colour. Every piece of new fabric is like another step towards feeling comfortable here, another step towards creating our unique family. I write a lot about home because to me it is symbolic (or I should go into interior design). When Adam and I moved here, I found three four leaf clovers on the property. While I was a little superstitious before, I now really believe in omens.

Recently we’ve been fixing our kitchen and doing a bit of re-decorating, managing to fix things, making the house more ours than the previous owners. It was my decision to put our whole selves here because it’s the only way to grow. I decided we can’t live life half-way, waiting for it to happen to us. As I add fabric — purples, yellows, vibrant ochres and the yellows I saw in Sri Lanka, I feel more relaxed. Adam burrows himself under the lavender blanket by the window on the new couch, or sits and reads his books and he looks so, well, at home. Someone said to me that choosing colour because I’m happier, and they are right. Adam, of course, picks up on this. We are growing our roots again.

Two years ago, Valentines Day, Adam and I had to leave the home that sadly caught fire last year, ironically also in February. It was a home we had built ourselves. I felt awful because it was still the home Adam later visited his father after I moved out. Adam did a lot of crying and spasming when he had to make the move. In the past several months, I drove Adam past the other house, which is still standing, and Adam wanted to go in. When I explained that he no longer lived there any more, he didn’t fuss. He knows his home is here now. I felt, though, that I owed him some gentle explanations and drive-bys — everytime we went near after the fire, he would crank his neck out the back seat window of my car to try and see his “old” home across the park or down the street. I felt awful not letting him back initally, but I had to make sure he would be able to handle it.

I think about that move and how hard it was on Adam, and on me. Our home now is a place where love thrives and I thank those who are close to us for bringing it back into our lives.

Happy Valentines Day.


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About Me


I’m a PhD candidate at York University, Critical Disability Studies, with a multi-disciplinary background in the arts as a curator and writer. I am the Founder of The Autism Acceptance Project (, and an enamoured mother of my only son who lives with the autism label. I like to write about our journey, critical issues regarding autism in the area of human rights, law, and social justice, as well as reflexive practices in (auto)ethnographic writing about autism.