My beloved sister Phyllis made her final exit from the planet this past April. She had a complicated very early childhood, and her teenage years can best be described as tumultuous. Mother called her lively. Dad chuckled and called her “a pistol.” Phyllis was fierce about those she loved, and she was opinionated, often beyond what I considered reasonable.  But through it all, she never lost her sense of humor and her joy. I was so lucky to have her as my big sister and without her now my life seems a little emptier.  Godspeed, Big Sister.  I wrote this for her a few years ago. In her honor, please go out and do something PURPLE. And come back and tell us about it.

My Sister’s Colors–for Phyllis

My sister rescued me from the

               safe browns and comfortable blues

“Get away from there!”  she said,

               pulling me into the racks of purples and reds.

“Mother is not here—dive into the FUSCHIA!”

My sister lives on the brighter side of the color wheel,

               blazing a trail, leaving hot pink footprints.

Paint yourself in the brights.

Dare to be orange.

Dance in the lime green.

We don’t have to blend into the background scenery

               the robin browns and the pale egg blues

               of our protected childhood.

Claim your colors.