As I walked along the trail with Billy this morning a Blue Jay flew onto a branch. Acorn in beak he started to hit it against the tree to break it open. I stopped, took a breath and thought of my Biology teacher in junior college, the way he believed in me, my bird watching project I did in his class. I had never done anything like it before, gone out with a notebook and recorded what I saw. Recorded the Blue Jays behaviour, learned how to tell male from female, differentiate between the western scrub, stellar, and king fisher. I compared forest birds to sea birds. I ended up getting an A in the class which was a big deal having dropped out of High School in eleventh grade. During that moment this morning on the trail I almost cried, I didn’t know why. What was sad about this moment? Was it the memory of a time when it was all about me? A time when I was being rewarded for doing something, being told I was smart, a time when I was learning about new things and the future was wide ahead?
After I put the babies down for their nap I wasn’t sure I had anything to paint about or write about. I’m still processing yesterday, what I heard, what I learned from the speakers at Early Start yesterday. A glimpse Fiona’s life ahead of her.
I decided to just come in to my studio for an hour, just paint. And I did. I really like what I made too. I thought of the word agitation, because that’s what I have today. An agitation inside me.
I’m amazed at how much came out of me. I feel imcomplete if I work in my studio but haven’t written. I can hear Jack on the monitor now. It’s almost time to get the babies up. An hour ago if one of the babies would have woken I would have been really mad. Now that I’ve painted and written, even for a short amount of time I feel good about the rest of my day as Mom.