"Once a deep and powerful connection between two people has been created they become a vital part of each other's lives. No measure of distance or duration of silence can prevent the outbreak of smiles and laughter or the strong desire to leap into...
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Every morning I wake up and the first thing on my mind is a painting. Someone's art that I've scene somewhere in my twenty-five years of existence. Usually the feeling the painting gave me influenced how my day would go.
Today's painting is Christina's World. A 20th century piece from American painter Andrew Wyeth.
The painting depicts a woman, Anna Christina who is crawling up from a yellowish-brown grass field—looking..longing at the farmhouse on the top of the crag. The woman in the painting was suffering from a muscular disorder that prevented her from hiking. However, she was still doing what she could to get to the farmhouse.
I read somewhere that the artists' challenge was to do impartiality to her extraordinary conquest of life which most people would consider hopeless.
It was my grandfather that showed me Christina's World. He thought Anna Christina resembled me, her back that is. Dark hair like you my granddaughter. I resisted the urge to tell him that there's plenty of women with dark hair but the comparison brought a smile to his aging face so I let him have it.
I grumbled softly at the thought of having to physically leave my bed but I knew if I stayed a minute longer, it would turn into more than a minute and next thing you know I'm running late for work.
"Oh good, you're up!"
"Unfortunately." I sigh.
"Well I need your opinion." Jennie; roommate, sometimes frenemy but soulmate always says as she holds up two dresses. "I have a breakfast date with that cute guy I was telling you about, you know the one I met at the Gucci event last week and I can't figure out which dress will look better with my Valentino pumps."
"They both look the same to me."
Jennie genuinely frowns at my statement, almost seeming offended. "Honestly, I don't even know why I ask you these things. I'd have better luck with Friendly Rick on the corner of the fifth."
"Friendly Rick will only tell you what you want to hear because he thinks you're hot." I roll my eyes. I could hear her trailing behind me as I walk into the kitchen desperate to put the coffee pot on before I start getting ready for the day.
"At least he's kind and he takes my feelings into consideration."
"Maybe he'll let you sneak into bed with him at two o'clock in the morning too and listen to you talk all night until your ready to fall asleep."
"To think you enjoyed listening to me ramble!"
I scoff. "Not necessarily something I enjoy but something I've grown accustomed to since we we're six."
I could vividly remember my father walking through the foyer with another man and a little girl standing between them. I could recall myself thinking she resembled a cat. I still think she does.
