People ask about the brush I used in a particular Instagram Story. Folks get excited, then it seems incredibly important to me. Where is that brush have I lost it or did I accidentally throw it out? Was that brush the reason that painting worked? Can a paint anymore without said brush? Seeming doubtful now…
A strange life driven to create. My motives are pure, I continue my work. Grumpy old man… I may well be.
In 4th grade the cutest little girl used to ride on our bus. I tried to sit near her as we all did, she was the sun. She laughed, entertained and generally brightened each day. One winter morning she looked into my eyes and said, “You are like a very sad old man.” My heart collapsed even as other children erupted in laughter.
Those words haunted me across the years. I have tried to be upbeat and find my own laughter. In the end the cute little prophet had it right.