Creative Everyday

I am red, yellow and blue with many lines and tiny dots, in all colors.  I saw the artist painting slowly, with great care, keeping my colors bright and edges neat.  I can feel the sadness  she carries because it is taking a long time for me to appear completed.  I depend on her inspiration and try to pay attention as my colors swirl on the beautiful paper she has chosen for me.  I feel her search for another color to pull me together and turn on my yellow glow.  Now she blasts me with a whoosh of hot air to hurry up even though I am rushing while she paints to get dry.

I am not rebellious when she chooses blue paint for leaves.  Maybe this is the color of her grief, I try to help by keeping all of the vivid colors in their spaces.  I think that this is what she wants although in her searching, there is tentativeness and uncertainty. I want to soothe and comfort her, to reveal why I am here. 

Her husband would have loved me, early on, even before blue came to the painting and would have given her a soft kiss saying this is colorful. I see her crying, face wet with tears, searching for a kleenex. A bit of green and surely she’ll trust her creative instincts to feel satisfied knowing that I’m her best work of art, so far. So far, that’s what he’d say.

Tagged: grief, grief and loss, widow, writing