Childlike Play

For my birthday, which was back in the summer, Rebekah wanted to sign us up for a local venue's painting event, which featured waterscapes.

But the amount of was out of her budget.

So she went to a craft store and picked up two children's paint kits and brought them home. We did nothing with them because we could not find several hours where both of us were free.

Until this past Sunday.

For most Sunday afternoons over the last two years, I've met with a woman in her mid-90s to listen to her stories and take notes, as I was hired by her family to write her memoir.

But last Sunday, she celebrated Thanksgiving with her friends. Rebekah does not work on Sundays.

So, finally, we painted!

We had no time pressures. No looking at our phones to check the time or messages.

We listened to music (because my art teacher in sixth grade always played classical music during art projects and because my sister and I loved to listen to music while we colored, hours and hours of coloring) and we painted.

We did not talk much, except when asking to borrow a color of the other's paint.

It was several hours of background classical music and brush strokes.

Here's Rebekah's

Here's mine.