I know this to be true:
Love remains, even when all that is left is a memory.
Love remains, through the years you should have had together.
Love remains, even as grief changes the very molecules of your soul.
Love remains, as you live your life, alone or with others.
Always, always, love remains.
Love never dies.
Do you ever have a project that you’re scared to start? I do. I am.
I signed up for Sketchorama with The New Bohemian Gallery.
I am not an artist.
I am a writer. Who is sometimes inspired by her photographs.
And who got a crazy idea to join in with all the other artists.
The writing is easy. Much of it is done. But do I hand write it? Or print it out and glue it in? That seems like cheating… but I will have to figure out a way to get the photos in the book (I’ve been thinking of trying a clear, matte sticker/label). I feel like I should use my handwriting, as it’s more personal… byt will anyone be able to read it?
I’m doing something outside my comfort level. Much of the writing is done, it just needs to be put into the sketchbook.If only…. If only I could draw. BUt then I’d be an artist of a different stripe.
And yes, I asked first if written words would be ok.
It is.
And still… still I’m frozen. I’ve written the opening page– and I love it. I’ve hand written it in a card and sent it to my Aunt who is magnificently artistically talented . (Hi Aunt Mary!) But actually putting it into the sketchbook? Ummm…
What if I make a mistake?
My sister, another magical artist, says just to do it. That sketch books are meant to be personal. And still I freeze.
But that’s ok. I have a secret weapon— Regina is coming down on the holiday weekend. And I know that if she reads this, before she leaves to go back home that first opening page will be written in the book before she leaves. And as much is already written (going with the theme of water: ocean, river, bay, etc) and some will come new…
But I bet it will have that first page, handwritten, before she leaves.
Yesterday, as I was sitting in my throne crying because of the choice I had to make, I thought to myself… I’ve been to tomorrow. It sucks. Alas, there was no trip to my happy place with good friends, tiny houses and lots ofnlaughter. Instead I slept off a bug that snuck up and attacked me.
But that phrase stuck with me. All day and into this morning.
Who would say that? Would they be in poetry form? Or perhaps… oh my gosh I’m getting an idea for fiction? Can it be true? After so long apart? I know I have another idea, revolving around Face Rock in Oregon….
My imagination is at play, and I am enjoying it. Did it need a rest? Or do I just prefer variety? I think it’s the second one, personally. It’s very hard to peg wynwords down… and I like it that way. A Kaleidescope of crazy imagination that brings me happiness.
Even in the midst of missing out on something I’d been so looking forward to.
Take my lovelies, I’m off to work on a few ideas and sip my sprite.
Tomorrow I get to go to my happy place. Santa Cruz, California. I love that town.
I do not love the drive up there. Twisty, winding roads.
But the city, itself? It’s very bohemian, artsy and I love it.
But not as much as I love the ocean. It recharges me even as it settles my soul.
So tomorrow and tomorrow’s tomorrow, I will be gone. No internet, no problem. I’ll have my notebook and pens.
Be safe, my lovelies.
Until tomorrow’s tomorrow.
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