Yellow is my paternal grandfather, tuggin' on my fat, bright blonde, braided pig tails, telling me that Ireland is missing it's brightest wild yellow rose, in his rolling accent from the hills of Ireland herself. His voice warm and sunny, it seems like whenever he spoke his voice would surrond you in warm yellow light.
Yellow is loving.
Yellow is my maternal great-grandmother, brushing out my long hair, telling me how it looked like corn silk, keeping me up at night telling me about how it was to grow up Native American. Her strength and wisdom painted many sunny, and sorrowful tales.
Yellow is pride.
Yellow is the light bouncing off the walls of my newlywed home. My husband buying and painting it for me in my favorite color even before I said yes, his faith and love for me never given him doubt.
Yellow is destiny
Yellow is the baby blanket I am knitting, before I am even pregnant. I think of the baby that will be and I pray for her health and happiness before she is even here.
Yellow is hope.