Here I was taking a break after an afternoon of packing what I call emotional bric-a-brac. In truth, I was packing books and tons of art supplies. I’m used to moving but packing will always be an emotional experience, especially this time around.
I love my place. I moved here as a single mom with my daughter with so much hope and dreams. We wanted it to be a little nutshell of art. I spent hours painting while she watched or drew beside me. I packed all the drawings I saw today. I don’t have the heart to throw out any of her cute doodles. Like me, she puts so much heart and soul into them.
Art was always something we both anchored on to cope. It made me cope with the rigors of a single momhood and it paid for some of our monthly needs. I love my place because I spent hours, days of just being lost in painting and writing. I was who I felt I was meant to be, and not just a working mom and now a wife. Those two roles have the habit of taking over one’s life and you really have to pull yourself back and say:
“That’s not me. I’m not just a working mom and wife.” In my head, those are just roles and not the end all and be all of my whole being.
As time goes by, you have to pull harder..or you get lost. I look at the empty canvasses and I know I was lost for a while. I had all sorts of reasons: too busy, have errands, no space, too sick, too tired, mom duties, wife duties, too lazy. Basically, everything under the sun.
I found myself again as I packed every memory filled painting, every single acrylic, brush, watercolors, invites to do exhibits and published articles.
I found myself as I stared at the empty canvasses strewn at the hallway. I cry and tell my husband “Don’t allow me to be just a mom and wife, okay? Don’t let me be just this. It makes me sad.”
I have to start all over again and this time around, I’m not alone. I’m packing with my daughter, husband, a poodle and a pomeranian puppy (our new baby). We’re moving to a better place full of love and art. More than this place will ever have.
We better get those creative juices going.