Beginning Again

 I was waiting patiently for my daughter’s due time — the quiet days before welcoming my granddaughter.

 They had arranged a simple vase of flowers. Nothing elaborate, just present. I felt the urge to paint it, not as a record, but as a way of sitting with the moment.

I didn’t have my usual materials. Only watercolours that had been given to me as a gift, a very permissive set of brushes, and oil pastel crayons. I had never worked this way before — water with oil pastels — but it was what I had.

The materials resisted each other. The surface refused precision. I let go of accuracy and followed what the tools allowed.

The painting isn’t exact. It isn’t polished.

It’s simply what could be done, in that moment, with what was available.

Sometimes light emerges not through mastery, but through acceptance.

Through working within limits, rather than against them.