Home Ground

I've been working on Mom's life story, with her. It strikes me, as I read her story and look at pictures from her childhood, how brief our stay on earth is. I look at my mom, now unable to be physically active, and see such a beautiful woman. She will soon be 92. Yet, such a short time ago, she was a girl, running through the desert land that was her home. I see my life that way too. We girls are all girls inside; that doesn't seem to change. It is the eternal part of us. I enjoy my time with Mom. Being with her and Layne in Colorado is a disruption of our regular life, but it is nurturing, in its way. Our month there passed quickly. Mom is gaining strength but I believe it is now clear to all of us that she will not be independent again. She hasn't acknowledged that, but I believe she feels it. If only she could feel comfortable with it and redirect her thoughts. She may be starting to.

Above is a picture of Mom in 1943 and again with me and my sister, Maryanne, in 2001.

We came home last Monday. I love my home. It embraced us as we entered Monday evening. Our trip home was, again, via Phoenix. It was the only way to get to San Francisco from Denver, believe it or not, because there are seats in and out of Phoenix. We happened to meet an artist from Montrose, CO, who had our exact travel schedule: Grand Junction to Denver to Phoenix to San Francisco. And she was a paying passenger! The fun thing was that she knew all about using pastels and gave me oodles of ideas.

So, I am passionate about using pastels now. Every day, so far, I have found an hour or so to work on them in my little art studio. I bought a nice set of pastels and am hard at work trying to figure out how to make beautiful pictures. The trouble with passions is that they can eat up your life. I could easily spend all day making pictures and forget all about food and sleep and....all else! I must control myself. There are, of course, many other things to do and most of them are more important than art.

Ah! It is great to be home.