Some things take on a life of their own. This is the way of my father’s old green sweater. He didn’t really wear it much at the end of his life, but I had thought it a would be a stylish addition to his wardrobe in his nursing home.
After he passed away, I draped it over the chair in my painting studio, reluctant to let him go. Though it is many sizes too large for me, I snuggle into the old green sweater in winter, feeling his presence once more.
We tend to keep the important things in our lives close at hand. My studio is such a place of comfort. It is crowded with things from past, present and future. Doohickies and thingamaabobs crowd the walls and hang from the ceiling. One great granddaughter who was by nature a quiet and sensitive baby, screamed her lungs out each time I brought her into this room. Bad karma I guess, but for some reason she smiled happily when carried into the sculpting studio. I have no answer for this.
All I can say is that my spirits rise upon entering this overblown and overcrowded haven and I think my Dad would approve.