The White Dove

Chapter 1

Monday 5th of May 2008

Soft music played on the background as my brush swiftly moved against the previously white canvas. I spread the colors where I needed them to be. Another painting of a white dove was almost finished. I would say that I have a thing for white doves, but the truth is painting doves is me missing my mum.  I remember when I was a little boy; we had a white dove as a pet. Mum had a great love for her. She had this belief that white doves are a good omen. She used to say that white doves symbolize new beginnings and love; and she strongly believed that my love life will be connected to doves somehow. "Doves are nothing but good omens, they always bring man prosperity and love," I remember her words well. I only ever took her words as words of someone who admires their pet. I never believed in omens, as I have never seen one come true before. Being an artist never meant I would be a believer in omens or miracles or likewise. My love for science is as bold as my love for art. To me, white doves are white doves; nothing more and nothing less. I only admired doves due to my mother's love for them. After my mum passed away, her dove went depressed for days until she died too. I spent years painting doves, white ones. Each time I feel the need to talk to my mother, I would just paint another dove. I never thought of an outcome, I just don't know any other way of connecting with her.

Painting, after all, was my sweetest escape from anything. I pour my feeling out as colors on canvas. Then, I lock those colors in a wooden frame and prepare them to be sold. I have this faith in me that everyone deserves to paint, to witness the peace of mind after every stroke of their brushes against the canvas. To bring their emotions to life into a map of colors, and what is life but a mess made out of random colors?   Being an artist was never easy for me, as not every day is my lucky day. Sometimes I spend months without selling any of my paintings. I knew I needed a job with a fixed salary and after weeks of searching, I found the perfect one. My desire to teach art was something I've had for years, however I never thought of taking that step before. I planned to teach people painting and not drawing. Drawing is a talent that a few have, but I believe that anyone can paint. I was supposed to teach in a middle school located near to where I live, which meant I could walk there, and my first day was supposedly today.  On my way out of my house, I saw my new neighbor leaving as well.

Trying to be polite, and because she looked adorable, I waved to her politely. She smiled softly and waved back, before getting in her car. I, too, went on my way and started my walk to school. The idea of me being a teacher was exciting to me. Having such an opportunity to teach people how to paint their thoughts away was a dream of mine.  All in all, the first day in school went pretty well even the students seemed to like me.   The first day alone made me positive about the following days. Hopefully, the teaching career will be as fine as I expected. Later that night, I started reorganizing my paintings to clear up space for any new ones. From where I was standing, I could see my neighbor's apartment. My window was wide open and so was hers. She was unpacking some boxes, mostly full of books. The intention of spying on her was not there, to begin with; however, the books she had, in my opinion, are way too much for one person to read. Carefully, I was placing my paintings in the corner of the room while she was neatly putting her books on the shelves attached to the walls. I remembered Maggie, the old lady who used to live here before the new girl. She was the sweetest person in the neighborhood and everybody loved her. She had moved out to go live with her ill daughter and no one heard from her ever since. And no one has rented the house before the current renter. However, after Maggie was gone, the neighborhood went back to being a land full of strangers. This was nothing I despised. Getting to know people closely, will lead to having them call you and come to your house and likewise. My house has always been a mess, and I got comfortable in that way. Thus, I will not just let a stranger in and hear them suggesting that I pick my brushes from the floor, or put my clothes in the closet, or clean the stains of paint from the coach. The later, though was not possible, I tried to clean the coach before but the paint just dried on it and stayed there for good. In fact, it gave the coach an edgy look which I've grown used to. All in all, my liking for any person fades immediately the moment they start interpreting on my life. Having put all my painting where I wanted, I closed the window, turned the lights off, and headed to the living room, where my stained coach lies. Despite being the messy person I am, my sleeping pattern is well managed. At 08:00 PM I had two hours left before going to sleep, and at 04:30 AM I would be awake getting ready for work. Keeping myself busy until bedtime, I decided, watching a movie was my best option, and so I took it.