My wrist has improved since my last post. I can actually draw! And type! What little things can mean so much.

This drawing has a little story behind this:

My grandfather had a friend named Mary. That’s how my mother explained it. When I was old enough to understand it, I found out my grandfather and Mary were in a love relationship, and living together.

Mary died soon after the beginning of the relationship. I barely remember her.

What I do remember is an afternoon my mother took me to visit Mary. It was rainy that day, and I was bored while the adults talked. What I remember is the pretty room, and the dull light coming in through the window.

I tried hang onto the feeling that I had in that room. It felt cozy, for lack of a better word. I may have made some real mistakes. For one thing, at first, there was a little dog on the rug in the foreground. Only thing is, the dog looked more like an Ewok from “Star Wars”, rather than a cute terrier. So, I covered it over.

I think I’ve made some other poor choices. The wingchair should have been an antique arm chair, and instead of the carpet should have been a hardwood floor, with an oriental throw rug.

I’m going to be able to go back to drawing! I can tell you how much I missed it.