A companion piece. They didn't start out that way, but there they went. This one is about space, not outer, probably inner, making and holding it.
And looking at them here, side by side . . . how they are related, but still different. Like family.
"Space" and "Story"- layers of oil paints mixed with cold wax medium on wooden boards, 12x12
A quiet morning filled with cloth, tea and thoughts of yesterday. Our nephew and family came to town. We spent the day with him and his two little ones. I just love him. I love the memories of him, who he is, how he is so our family-the good parts, the best of us. He has always felt that way to me. We were all too young when he came into our world, but he was so welcomed, the first of the next generation. A funny easy going red-head, who at four loved fire trucks and a clip-on bow tie that he wore on his t-shirts. Who is still funny and now spends his days working on emergency vehicles.
Blue and Moon came into our world as he went through his teens and then set off onto his own adventures. Our time and connection with him became much less, mostly at family gatherings during holidays. So, yesterday was a big treat, our first real time alone with him as an adult. I wanted to scoop him up, just like I used to when he was little- walking through town in the dark composing a poem, joining him for lunch in our old grade school cafeteria, during beach weekends with just the three of us, driving from Oregon to Seattle singing "Lollipop, lollipop . . ." at the top of our lungs . . . during all of the wonderful full memories.
And now there are his children to love . . . a three-year old funny sweet boy and a baby girl of eight months. I held onto her all day. I'm hoping this is the beginning of a rekindled relationship with him and his family. I tried to say that as I scooped his six foot four 33-year-old self into a hug that I didn't want to let go of.
