I like to think I got my right brain from my Grandpa. He found out later in his life that he could paint. He painted beautiful canvases that lined the hallway in his home.
As a teenager, sometimes I would take a moment to look at them. I was always drawn to this one. I would stand in front of it for a long time, each time, and picture myself there. On that beach.
Later, after he passed away and my Grandma was moving out of the home they had lived in for decades, everyone got together to choose the paintings they wanted to hang in their homes. I knew I wanted this one. The beautiful earth tones. The fact that it would perfectly match my home decor. The idea that I could go to the beach whenever I wanted. But it wasn’t one of the paintings that was chosen to be given away. The order of oldest to youngest put me at grandkid number 7 of 11. All my older siblings and cousins picked the paintings that were presented to them. But when it got to me I asked about it. Why is it still hanging in the hall? That was the one I wanted. After a few minutes of thinking and talking it out, my Grandma graciously gave it to me. It was one of her favorites too. I didn’t know that, and felt an immediate closer connection to her.
Now, approximately 15 years later, she is suffering from dementia and getting ready to move into a rest home. I’m so grateful to her for making the decision to give the painting to me. I’m not very sentimental about temporal things. But I will cherish this for as long as I’m on the earth. It still hangs in my home. And I still love to escape to the beach whenever I can.
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