It was a ‘learn to water color’ class Deborah signed up for without restraint

and she already had in mind the picture she would to paint.


It was our cabin in the mountains…the one nestled in the trees 

where we sit on the porch together…where we catch the summer breeze.


The cabin where we’ve spent those summers with our children for over 30 years

where we’ve shared so many moments…shared our laughter, shared our tears…


I knew she could paint the cabin, add bright colors to the trees,

but how, I asked her, is it possible to paint in our memories?


“That would be impossible,” she said, “I won’t ever try.

I’ll be content with painting the cabin, the ground, the trees…the sky.”


But she was wrong…for when her painting was completed…

the more and more I peered…

there on the canvas before me…a host of memories appeared.


Each time I look at her painting of our cabin…of the stairs, the trees…the door

I quickly realize I’m not just seeing the cabin…I'm seeing so much more.


I see Deborah’s parents on those stairs…

I see our children, our grandchildren…I see a painting that is rife

with friends and family and a myriad of memories that bring her painting to life.


Perhaps that’s what a painting is supposed to do…

urge us to see not only with our eyes but with our heart…

Perhaps that is not only the beauty of this painting


perhaps that’s the beauty of art.

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