My Rainbow Room

Did you ever have a secret place that you liked to hide out as a kid?

When I was young, I loved secret hideouts. I grew up in Wyoming and there was a tree in my front yard where I could sit high in the branches and no one would know I was there.  In the backyard there was a little shed that I painted with purple polka dots and turned into my own personal fort.  But my most significant hide out growing up was my rainbow room.  

In 8th grade my parents separated.  My sister was leaving for college and my Mom and Dad moved to different places in California to live away from each other for a year.  I remember driving down the highway with my Dad in our blue Ford pickup, with all of our stuff tied every which way, barely fitting in the bed of the truck.  During our drive a whole box of records fell out of the truck and spilled onto the highway.  As a girl, I would sit in front of the record player for hours listening to my parents old records.  I would play “I’m On Top of the World” by the Carpenters over and over again.  As I walked down the road picking up the pieces of those records, I thought about how this was the end of my normal life, our family was breaking apart. 

I went with my Mom to live in Northern California.  To save money,  we moved into a house with another Mom and daughter and I shared a room with a girl I had never met.  I remember tip toeing around this house where I didn’t belong, nothing felt like home, I was just a visitor.  Trying to make the best of things, my Mom had an idea to attach curtain rods to the ceiling and hang rainbow sheets around my bed, creating a Rainbow Room.  My Mom created a beautiful, private space, just for me.  I would pull the rainbow curtains closed, listen to music, think, dream and rest.  Happy or sad, this was a place of comfort and light. 

By making that Rainbow Room for me, my Mom did something unique and extra that made me feel loved.  She knew I loved rainbows, she knew I loved secret hideouts, she got creative and made a magical place.  To me this was an act of whimsy.  I think of whimsy as a delightful surprise or joy that is out of the ordinary. 

Today, I am the Mom in the story and the magic of whimsy has come alive in our family.  For us, this can look a lot of different ways.  

One night, during finals week of my daughter’s freshman year of high school, my husband made a big pot of spaghetti, way more than our family could eat, instead of cramming leftovers into the fridge, we decided to deliver bowls of spaghetti to my daughter’s friends that were studying for their exams.  The first year we did this it was a surprise that made everyone laugh, who delivers bowls of spaghetti during finals week? But for the next three years all the teenagers would ask us when we were going to deliver their “study spaghetti”. A strange and delightful tradition was created.

We have another strange tradition in our family of dunking our heads in lakes and rivers when we take hikes. When friends are along, we invite them into our tradition.  Usually they are hesitant to dunk their heads into the cold mountain water, but those who do never regret it.  One of my daughters friends recently sent me a video of her dunking her head in a river in Germany where she is traveling.  That made me happy and proud.  Whimsy is contagious. 

On hot days you might find muddy footprints running through our house because a water fight is in full swing.  On Friday night you might walk through our side gate and see the flickering screen of a backyard movie night.  One summer evening my daughter was dropped off after her gymnastics practice to find our whole family up on the roof ready to eat dinner.  I think we only did that once, but my now adult children still talk about the picnics on the roof.  

Just like my Mom and the Rainbow Room, through whimsy we have tried to create something unique and extra—filled with love.  

When I travel in the world, I like to bring whimsy along.  My daughter joined me for one of my projects in India where we spent time with young girls who have been rescued out of slavery in Kolkata’s red-light district.  Usually, when we come to visit these girls, they stop some of their daily activities and we take time to play.  I remember one day we brought a bag of flower petals and the girls had so much fun throwing the petals into the sky over the pond, swimming, splashing and jumping off the wall into the cool water.  The director told me that “it was a day of rest from their troubles.”

When she said this, it really meant a lot to me.  I think play can be a way to rest and whimsy is the art of playfulness. It can create space for joy.

I often ask myself if I am making space in my life for the people and things that I love? It is so easy for me to let life pass me by.

We are all on this journey together.  I want to savor the little moments we have with one another. I want to create a more playful world through whimsy and make space for joy.