Spring has arrived. I know it's spring because today I painted a chair. It seems to be what I do these later years when the colder weather disappears: I paint. Today a chair, tomorrow another chair, next week a wall, and so on.
Something interesting happens to me when I paint. I think. I think about the past and the present, and how the two worlds collide and how the regrets of the past work their way into the contentment of the present.
Today while I painted I thought about my birthday, which was easy enough to do given that I turned 37 only five days ago, on Monday. I thought of Mary and of our lovely trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake, which led me to thoughts of St. Jacob's and the Mennonites and of the first place we visited there where we stumbled upon the cornerstone of a building that was the subject of Mary's PhD thesis. I thought of those girls in that institution and the tragedies of their lives and how people like Mary make such -- sometimes make all -- the difference. I thought about all the people we met in both places, and of the dinner we had in a restaurant that makes wood-fired pizzas. I thought, too, about the supper we had on Sunday with Eva and David, and the fact that I hadn't eaten lamb since Don was alive.
I thought of my daughter and of the beautiful flowers she sent me for my birthday, and of the trip she and Lainey are making next week. I thought about what Lainey and I have planned -- a walk along Queen Street to buy a new stroller; a visit to the lake and maybe the zoo.
I thought about the cards and wishes and gifts I received, which in turn made me think again of Mary and Sarah and Noam and Eva and Susan and Mike and Marcia and Marg and so many others. I thought about the new tablecloths and the found-object charm bracelet from Havana and the turquoise glass pendant. I thought about the birthday cake with yellow icing.
I also thought of the new windows Mary bought me last year for my birthday. Beautiful windows. Wood windows. Windows yet unstained by spraying neighbourhood cats. Windows with perfect-view screens and spoon-shaped latches. Windows for Lainey to stand on her tiptoes and gaze through. Windows whose unfinished pine I am going to have to paint. Windows through which I am gazing right now.
Yes, for sure I love spring. Spring forces me to paint, and when I paint, I remember what and who I love and how lucky I am. Today I sat on the old piano bench and I painted a wooden chair linen white, and the room was full of people.
A chair is still a chair
Even when there's no one sitting there...
Luther Vandross
<:^)
