The universe and her, and I

L I G H T I N G B U G

"Can I help carry anything?" I asked closing the door to Torryn's Jeep.

This week was the beginning of the summer farmers market in town and I offered my assistance to help run Phoebe's booth with Tayla. They both told me no and that I didn't need to be working on my vacation but they can't turn me away once I've shown up so I hitched a ride with Luca and Torryn after I overheard them talking about stopping by to drop things off for Phoebe.

"Na we got it," Luca said reaching into the trunk to grab the bags.

"Seriously let me get something," I demanded trying to look over his shoulder at what was in the trunk.

"Fine here," He said turning around and shoving a small empty wicker bracket into my hands.

"This is it?" I asked looking back at the boys who hand at least seven bags in each hand.

"You can also close the trunk," Luca said with a huge smile.

"you're annoying," I mumbled under my breathe before closing the trunk and running to catch up with them.

The small market filled the town squares each booth containing something different. Some booths had homemade items like jelwrey for paintings and others had vegetables probably grown out of their backyard or flowers they'd had tended to for months just for this occasion. It was amazing to see such a small town come together to support each other crafts and talents.

"Are you an artist?" A small frail woman asked from her small table under her tent.

"What gave it away?"

"You're hands," I looked down at my hands and saw they were still had charcoal on them from something I was working on last night before I fell asleep.

"Kinda sorta," I said shyly hiding my stained hands behind my back. "I'm out of paints right now so I'm having to try other methods."

"I have some paints you can have." She said getting up from her fold-up hair and lifting up a large crate from the ground. "I always keep paint handy in case inspiration strikes."

"That's kind of you," I said looking into the crate at the hundreds of tubes that had been used; some more than others. "I can't take your paint."

"No, I insist."

"I'm actually looking for shells so I cant make paint. I find it works best for me."

"Well it's a good thing you're on an Island," She laughed sitting back in her chair. "We have plenty for the taking."

"I'm just looking for the perfect ones."

"Sometimes the most imperfect things make the best things. Take Greek architecture for an example It was not built to be perfect, it was built to look perfect. Use the small dirty shells and with the proper construction, you'll build a masterpiece."

"That's was very profound."

"I'm an 84-year-old retired artist I know a few things."

"What's your secret to life?"

"Stick to what makes you happy." She said simply with a smile on her face. "Both my husband and father were never too pleased about my career choice wishing I would stay home so despite them I opened up my own studio and worked seven days a week until I retired at 60. Life's too short not to pursue something you love. If you find your passion in life go for it and dont let anyone else tell you what to do, this isn't their life it's yours."

"Wow thank you, I needed that," I admitted.

"No worries dear stop by my studio in town when you finish making those paints." She winked before standing up to help another customer who walked into her tent.