A Little Missing Part
Published on May 25, 2012
It was around 10:00 PM.Phoenix was asleep. Laundry in the washer. Dishes sitting in the sink. Food in my belly. And a paintbrush in my hand.
Yes, a paintbrush I said.
I finally had enough. It’s been way too long–and ever since my little guy was born my heart has been longing to paint again.
All through my pregnancy all I wanted to do was write. So I did.I wrote a lot–and barely painted.
I just didn’t actually paint paint. (You know what I mean.)
That all changed this week when I put a canvas on my easel, paint on a palette, and turned on the lights in my studio. I probably should have went to bed–but screw it.
I need this. I need to paint.
At first one of my usual “faces” started to appear–but it didn’t feel right. It felt forced…..trite…expected.
So I stood up, grabbed a bigger brush, and just started slapping paint on it with some freaking boldness and energy.
I painted like I was the last painter alive!
And guess what happened? The ol’ pod‘s came back again!!
Or maybe a part of myself came back again.
Yeah, I think that’s it.
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