Painting: WINGS by Barb Santucci [mixed medium]
When I awoke this morning I thought about how silent it was outside. No bird song. I went into my yard and filled all the empty bird feeders in hopes some winged creatures would return.
I thought about a question I have pondered for years: "Must we leave before we can realize what we have left?"
The days pass so quickly, it almost seems as if they fly on the wings of birds. Everything changes and we can never go back to the way things used to be. You can't not know something once you've learned it.
Remember being a child when the days seemed to move at a snail's pace? We couldn't wait to grow older and be on our own. We didn't realize one day we would miss the slow, lazy days filled with playing and running with friends. Days when everything seemed new and exciting.
We can't be a child again, but we can play and love the world.
I think that is why I loving writing children's books and creating new paintings. Each new story, each new painting is like starting over. It's like seeing the world through fresh eyes, recapturing a new sense of the world and how I fit in it. Is this "hope"?
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