Avalon Apollo always wanted to pursue a career in the art industry; however, bad habits and free range was always her downfall. Attending her first year of Barlowe Centennial University, Avalon found what she always needed, what she needed in order...
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"Mommy, who is that?" I ask my mother, pointing at the lady in the painting, surrounded by wildflowers and bright clouds as the wind swept through her long, white dress.
"I'm not sure baby." My mother smiles, "But I'm sure someone else around here would know if you wanted to go ask them."
"Okay." I smiled before skipping around another part of the museum.
I admired the art standing before me in awe. Memorized by each small detail and every emotion on each characters face.
"Cookie!" I hear my father yell out the nickname he's called me since I was born. He says he calls me 'Cookie' because of my features—my dark hair representing the chocolates, and my softly tanned skin completion representing the sweet and soft cooked dough.
"Coming!" I hollar back before running my little legs through each individual room, passing by hundreds of painting and ginormous statures until I reach a particular room and see my father sitting on one of the benches, examining and admiring one particular painting.
'The Pride of Dijon" the tablet reads. "William John Hennessy (1879-1917)
It's gorgeous. There's a man and a woman sitting on a table out on a deck and looked as if they are conversing. The environment around them is just as beautiful as everything else. Small trees mix with greens and blues and tiny flower bushes are scattered throughout. The man looked infatuated with the woman as they accompanied one another and I become obsessed.
My father and I, as a five year old little girl, sat and stared at the painting for what felt like an eternity. He spoke softly after a little bit, "Art is an incredible thing, my Cookie. It's an escape from where you really are, it's a new place to travel. When I was a boy my mother and I used to come to the museum and she would speak so divinely of it. I never quite understood it at your age but sitting here now, looking, I believe I finally understand it." I turn and look at my father and he pulls me into him, giving me his loving hugs he always gives.
"I'm going to go find your mother now, keep looking around." My father says before kissing me on my forehead standing up to walk away.
After he leaves, I roam around the museum some more, staring deeply into each painting and somehow I can feel it. I can feel each gust of the wind, I can smell each flower being presented, and I can sense each emotion of the people inside. Whether it be the girl running through the valley, or the small boy soaring through the clouds.
I knew from this point on, this is where I want to be, this is where I want to live, and this is what I want to feel.
