I’ve started painting. With brushes and a paint set.
I take ownership of my amateur status (in the best sense of that word). I love painting!
When my adored child-play creations are dry, I pin them to the fridge. Passing by I stop and preen like a girl in front of a mirror, listening as the refrigerator pictures talk back to me.
“What a pretty picture I am!”
My husband complimented one of them.
“I like that.”
Wow! Somebody likes them!
Another friend said
“I enjoy your little pictures.”
This crumb boosted my confidence like a load of jet fuel.
I started to crave the confidence boosting.
I couldn’t resist asking my son (age 21).
“Do you like my picture?”
His response was slow to come.
Oh dear. What have I done?
My seedling painting practice is not ready to be unearthed by any hint of a negative reply.
After a long silence, my son said,
“Yes. I like your picture.”
“But I hope you’re not going to have it framed.”