Sunday, August 21, 2011
As each year passes you own it. My heart breaks a little bit. But soars even more.
Strong and capable. Observant and kind. Figuring it out. Finding your way.
As a child you've seen life through a borrowed lens. Now you've found your own and are fingering it gently.
I'm grateful this shift is gentle and diaphanous.
I was watching you paint today. You dipped the paint filled brush into clear water. That ocean blue hue danced and swirled through that cup leaving it better than it was before it was there. Just as you've done to me the last twelve years. Your paintings are becoming your own.
I look forward to each new masterpiece. I love you.
Labels: Letters to my Daughters