SO Paint


It’s been awhile since I wrote a blog post. It was an overwhelmingly busy six or eight weeks. I knew that going in. At some point, I wondered if I would get through it, and I did. Everything got done, on time and well. I didn’t get sick either, which surprised me. And I actually did a lot of art along the way.

Some days, doing the art was what saved me.

That, and the love of family and friends.

My youngest daughter, the only one left at home, moved away to college in Washington State right before the 4th of July. She’d moved away once before, to Monterey. But there, I could go visit her. Not so easily up in Washington, and I’m much busier now.

Also, last time she left, people came and stayed with me almost immediately, so I didn’t have much down time in between her leaving and them arriving. Enough for a few good cries, but now I am alone with no long-term visitors on the horizon. Some days, I am lonely. I think that is why I stay so busy – to avoid looking at the alone-ness. I should probably look it more squarely in the eye and ask it what it wants of me.

Other times, being alone feels like punishment. That feeling is some psychological throwback, like my nose is being put in the corner. Most days, being alone has been glorious over the past 17 years since I got divorced. I’ve learned a lot about myself, I’ve supported myself and my four kids as they grew up. Everyone is doing well. There are even grandchildren. Now, I have no one to report to but myself.

Lately, I am conscious of not being part of a couple. Raising kids and working, it was easy to not look that one in the eye, but I find myself longing to be part of a bigger thing. I wonder if I will ever get back to there again because inside me, those were some of the happiest days.

A relationship is like a piece of art. It is like a blank canvas with a lot of unknown, wide-open scary parts. What’s going to happen up in that corner? What if I put yellow on it here? Can I draw and represent that figure the way I want? Each stroke of the brush is a gentle, but deliberate move to mold that canvas into what I see and feel inside. And when it succeeds, it is so joyous. And when it is bad and needs to be reworked, that can be beautiful too. You just keep working on it and putting in the time and attention, enjoying the process along the way. I guess what I am saying is that right now, I am missing the relationship process. I’m out of significant-other paint.