Chapter 02.03

Art classes.

All this time, I have been a wilting flower, thirsty for something to be passionate over.  And now, I have found two things: William and art classes.

Rachel and I are like giddy school girls in class.  Our teacher, Mrs. Pudge (as I call her), wobbles around the room, pressing our fingers down into the clay, yelling at us in her guttural whisper, “Put your soul into it, girls!”  So I do.

I pour every ounce of my soul into our creations.  Where there are pencils to draw with, I find my heaven.  Bursts of color from the tips of paint brushes send me catapulting into the clouds.   I can safely escape here.  There is no baby, no Henry, and only the great wide open universe.  So I create.

Rachel “ohh’s” and “ahh’s” over my pieces.  I try to do the same for hers, though I suspect the one thing she is capable of making is very beautiful abstract patterns.

In this gift, I have found alternate worlds filled with fairies and pixies and mythological creatures.  My sister would be proud.  I must remember to ask Henry for enough extra postage money to send this to her.

Also, I must remember to thank him for the gift of these classes.   I already know how he’d most like me to show him my gratitude.

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