Confusing, that is how we can make life.
I just want to have lots of time to piddle – to go through the last 25 years and sort and frame and store and disgard and remember. I see how life goes so quickly and how we put cherished things aside like photos and friends and Easter bonnets and we stack them high and stash them deep in closets and up on shelves thinking we will get to it later and then later is 25 years and they have become the piles of our lives, the trail of bread crumbs that take us back. I am serious about tending to them. I have, by now, seen life begin and end and I know the time in between is short – I don’t need a quote by Emerson to remind me – I want to see about the piles I have left behind in corners so that the places up ahead can be my focus. Put things to rest and clear the path ahead… I want this but it may not be something I can achieve for time and sentiment burdens me. I know this about myself and constantly struggle with this conflict – I somehow know which part of me will win – it will be the soppy side of me that is left standing when it all is done. I just know that.
And I want to paint – just for the pureness of it and so that there is something on the wall to remind someone of me. Narcissistic? Maybe, but maybe just artistic?