North Star

14. Memories

Still standing at the lip of the opening, frozen in awe, a dragonfly had to fly in front of my face to remind me that I didn't have all day.

I came out of my frozen state and walked out onto the beauty of the land. I stepped around the small field of wildflowers lightly, not wanting to ruin any of them. One thing is for sure about what I found, I may or may not go past my curfew.

Looking past the field at the pond, it is clear and I can see a few tiny fish swimming around. I walk towards it. There is a thick strong looking tree hanging right over the edge of the pond, perfect for sitting on. On the face of the pond is the clear reflection of the mountains. The mountains aren't giant, but they aren't subtle, with the stereotypical light snow scattered on the tops of them.

Stopping at the edge of the pond, gently placing my backpack on the ground, I stare in wonder at the world around me.

It isn't great weather to paint anything, since the sun is threatening to hide away and let the clouds roll in to do their raining part, but when am I going to have the chance to come out here on my own? Probably not for a little while, so might as well make the best of what I have in front of me now. I can try to imagine that it's a summer morning with no clouds and the sun blazing high and butterflies flying everywhere.

I nod and grab the backpack to set everything up. The process as I unfold the easel and place the canvas on it has me jittery and content. I make a face when the sun hides behind one of the clouds, waiting for it to come back out. Alice gave me an umbrella but how am I going to paint while holding it in my hand in case it does rain soon?

Digging out the umbrella from the backpack and opening it, I attempt to balance it on the easel somehow. It won't stay put. Rain on paint isn't the end of the world, it creates even more essence and gives a touch of nature itself, but the idea of the painting drying by today was sort of in mind.

Giving up and placing the umbrella open on the ground, planning on using it once it does start to rain, and I grab the leather tool roll and paints. I grab the plastic cup and fill it up with the pond water.

I smile as I place the colors on the paint board and smear the canvas with colors. My skin shimmering under the sun when it popped back out.

As I brush the paint brush against the canvas with the paint, the memories of me painting with my siblings come to mind. The memories are vague but they're there, and it makes my eyes become uncomfortable.

Aileen took me to her museum a few years back before I moved away and let me use her studio to paint something for the exhibit she was going to hold in about two weeks. I didn't ask her to put it up for me, she just wanted to do it on her own and I just felt like painting something. I remember being so frustrated painting the stupid picture in her studio at the back of the museum she worked at, after procrastinating on it for a little bit, and struggling for it to look "exhibit-worthy".

"There's no use. I messed up badly, there's no way to fix it. Let's just forget the whole thing and go get dinner," I said frustrated, throwing the brush down hard and getting up to leave.

"Wait, Cece. It's good, there's no such thing as a mistake in art," she said, tugging me back down to the chair to face the monstrosity she says is a good painting.

"Shut up. You know damn well that even people make mistakes in messy art," I grumbled, rolling my eyes and dropped begrudgingly back on the chair.

"Oh, come on, Cece." Cece is a baby nickname my sisters gave me when I was born. My family prefers it over my actual name, and, in all honesty, so do I. But only my family and really close family members and friends are allowed to call me that. If anyone else calls me by it, I make sure to let them know that it is not allowed, and I will take offense to it. If my family calls me by my actual name then I can't help but think about what and how much trouble I am in.