purple people are my people

For as long as I can remember, I have loved the color of purple. Specifically, magenta and lavender. When I was 17 years old my youth pastor and his wife (whom I lived with at the time), asked me what color I would want my room when they finished building it.. of course I said lavender. To my dismay, it was a chic brown color, but whatever, I had super comfy soft carpet! I also begged them to paint their new house light purple.. they went with a light mint green…modernists…

Every house I have rented since has not allowed me to paint, so I’m still waiting on my dream of purple walls. But I have since encountered a few people who bring purple to a whole new level. One of my closest friends loves it. It’s a stretch getting her to buy clothing that doesn’t have some purple hue in it. When she moved to Boston from Chicago, she was comforted by the fact that the first apartment she looked at to rent was purple, and she’s been living there since. Currently I have some purple concord grapes in my fridge from her, fresh from the vine, ready for juicing. We had fresh, warm, grape pie recently too. There’s not much better than the smell of fresh grapes.

But the purple cake topper is certainly my therapist. I am part of a research study in which I meet with a therapist weekly for a few months to track a certain method of therapy. She’s a lovely woman. She practices out of her home and is a little odd. I love people who just have clear oddities. Just every day people. Her home and office exterior are purple. The inside of her office and waiting room are purple. She has purple stained glass decor, purple couches, a purple quilt. Without fail, she is always sporting something purple. Her filing folders are even purple.

It’s a little obvious she’s partial to the color. So I, being someone who just has to “test” everything, decided to check it out. I wore my purple shoes and brought a purple tote bag with me. Sure enough, she complimented me on them and asked where I got them.

Purple people-they really are my kind of people, usually. And 95% of the time, every little girl under 8 years old is going to think you’re automatically awesome if you’re an adult who loves purple, just like them. So it’s a win-win for me. I am not chic enough to claim a grey scale color, or antique enough for yellow, or spunky enough for pink, but purple, yes purples are just fine with me.

Sometimes caring for someone is bringing them some fresh grapes or inviting them over to try your family tradition of grape pie. Sometimes it’s sitting in a therapist’s office thankful that she’s just a regular woman, with personality and quirks all the same. And sometimes it’s hanging with a six year old using glue to jazz up a piece of paper with pink and purple sparkles. Really, their just ordinary things and ordinary people touching hearts in extraordinary ways.

31 Days of Writing: Purple