A Tuesday afternoon. The agony was great. I hadn’t painted for a while. Didn’t think I’d be able to. Picked up paint brush and blue paint, just one color. Picked up small canvas, less ground to cover. I could do it. Yes! Patiently and carefully, I became engaged, an engagement I hadn’t had for a while. Flowers started emerging. Flowers have always comforted me. Once they started to appear, I went with them, adding different shades and shapes. So many flowers in my head. My father instilled in me a love of gardening. I am preoccupied now with his twilight years.Things he has enabled and things he has not. I want to go back to when things were good, fleeting memories of flower picking... Eight hours of painting and contemplating. I am surprised by my ability to make something appealing when feeling so awful.