BY HADLEY HUNT

the painted lavender walls watched me since birth. 

the floral printed sheets bathed me since my chubby toes 

first touched the ground. the smells of all things fresh and innocent, 

doors always open, 

windows tipped upwards, 

sweet experiments concocted in the kitchen down the hall. 

a married pair of parents. 

being born a wildflower obsessed with the feminine glow of flashy, perfect girlhood. 

this was everything i loved. 

the growth into a kid unsure why she’s hiding 

her pink and purple joy. the paint roller in my palm seeped sickness, 

green hesitance disguised as truth. 

the green apple walls stared at me since second grade. 

the unknown illness who made me familiar with 

tupperware bowls and paper towels and 

hot, chattering teeth before bed. 

a strange and often too cold window into a space that i pretended was mine. 

the smells of all things secretive and 

meals made in hidden kitchens. 

a stroke-ridden parent. 

this was everything i questioned. 

sweet teenagehood of pretending the green isn’t there. 

the green apple walls that wait for me to stop growing ever 

since i brought a boy to meet them.

the destruction

of pearly white schoolgirl beds that couldn’t fit us both.

the healing tiptoe return

of flowers and dainty dresses that flow beneath the knees. 

checkbooks full of cash and dogs licking my saucy shoes after shifts. 

doors shutting, people leaving at odd hours, late nights slurping pasta as parents argue themselves to sleep. 

dreaming of retail therapy, bedtime embraces, 

the invigorating heat 

of bodies on bodies. 

this was everything i accepted.

the adult reunion of paint rollers bringing

lavender walls back to life.

the replanting of printed gardens on furniture and 

flower garlands dripping from the window. 

imprison the carcinogen of green for 

years and years of fraud. remedy my existence.

the feeling of pretty clothes forgotten in shopping carts, 

being okay with my body,

femininely caressing the rim of hurricane glasses 

garnished with cherries and the taste of burning, curing alcohol.

licking away my lipstick. 

parents finding love in other people.

the eagerness of college. 

the solemn return to a life distant yet surgically attached to the palm of my hand, 

it is heat radiating into steam. 

clouding vision. warm sleepy comfort. 

perfect girlhood. 

i’ve always been nothing but lavender scent, color, taste.

this is everything i am.

Writer | Hadley Hunt ‘25 | hhunt27@amherst.edu

Editor | Sarah Wu ‘25 | sdwu25@amherst.edu