I grew up sailing a little red sailboat on a lake in New Jersey. Each season we drained its leaky hull and patched the fiberglass. Not even a cockpit, our Sailfish was more like a surfboard than sailboat.
Thinking back on it, my heart fills with feelings of youth, freedom, learning to hold rudder and sail in balance ~ and how to pull the sail out of the drink when we tipped her over.
Painting sailboats … it all comes rushing back through the paint brush with charged up force.
Reflecting on why I wanted to paint a sailboat? I wasn’t sure at first. Once I began asking the question, answers piled up until I didn’t know where to begin. Then finally ~ weeks later ~ one word emerged.
I remember being annoyed with the nuns for not teaching us what grace is. It seemed only that some people like nuns had it. And the rest of us had to figure it out or do without.
Who knew we were doing it all along?