Letters to Fate

My Mother

   I was self employed.  I'd gone to college to become an artist.  I dropped out in my second year because they didn't seem to know as much as I did.  They taught us second grade techniques that I already knew.           

      Walking to my easel in the corner I sat down.  Still in my granny, floral, nightgown and tying my short, blunt bob up, I began to paint.  It was the same painting from my dream.  A woman in a window seat with a cat.  The woman in the painting was my mother.  I had modeled the painting after a photograph I had found at my Dad's house.  I don't know who had taken it, but I did know it was before me.
     My mother was beautiful.  She had long brown hair to her waist and sparkling eyes.  She always looked happy.  Her 70's bohemian, disco outfit was retro and cute.  The way the light hits makes her face look angelic and mysterious.  I loved her.  Five years would never be enough. 
      She left when I was five and never came back.  Her note said she just needed a break, but she she just up and left one day.  We looked for her everywhere and couldn't find her.  My father never forgave himself.  He hasn't noticed it was missing, so he mustn't have taken it or he would tell me it had disappeared.  So who took this photograph?
.
.
.
.
Thanks for reading. Please comment or message me if you have any recommendations or find a grammar/spelling error. That would be greatly appreciated!