Nothing but rain

After a very long dry spell, it has finally rained here in Milwaukee. Ironically, it hasn’t stopped all day and we can't remember when the last time we spent the entire day indoors was. It is strange though because the grass even looks like it grew a foot in one day. Greg keeps staring at it, shakes his head, and sighs - he will have to cut it 3 times, at 3 different heights in order to make sure he doesn’t clog the lawnmower.

I, on the other hand, love the rain. It makes everything fresh and new. Even if the day has gone badly, I visualize the rain washing away all of the negative things and leaving a fresh palette from which to draw. Hmm - drawing... yes, it has been a long time since I have picked up a sketch pad and drew to my heart's content. Didn’t you ever know I was an artist? It seems the truth has leaked out... I was even in art shows when I was in grammar school and all the way through college. My father always told me how I could never make a real living doing what I loved - art - and I sadly listened to him. And yes, I am a sort of supernatural creature. I have precise logic built into my brain and yet I am highly creative. Alas, I use both sides of my brain very well - I am ambidextrous (left and right handed) and have a number of other abilities that other people don’t... but I digress - my father pushed me away from art by not praising my ability. You see, in my family, things are always done based on the approval rating of the elders in the family. These elders praised my ability when I was very young and then all of a sudden stopped one day. Because of that, I stopped...

Many people pray for their childhood back... I pray for my talent back. For someone to remove the road block my family put up. Sure, I can be creative but it is only for a purpose - for other people or because of a project due. On my own though, the road block remains. Over 900 miles separates me and my biological family and yet their imprint on my artistic ability is as strong as ever. 31 years old and I still cannot break down the wall that keeps my passion from me. Maybe, just maybe, the rain will wash this wall away... maybe it will show me my blank palette once again and place a paintbrush in my hand...