Tiny, peach-colored roses give way to somber plaid give way to stripes of all colors as I peel away the layers, one life at a time, and plan for the one about to begin.
A bay window faces east. Beside it, your grandmother’s rocking chair, hand-carved of sturdy pine where, together, you and I will greet the promise of each new day and discuss ideas great and small.
Another thin sheet of the past tears free and floats to the floor, leaving for us finally a blank canvas.
Pink is too timid. Blue, too lonely. Yellow, a coward’s choice. For you, my child, nothing but rainbows will do.
From the Studio 30-Plus prompt “… peel away the layers…” Limit 150 words.