I'm so thankful for the blessing of painting.
It might seem silly to some, but I could spend my whole life hunched over these portaits with a brush in my hand and a pencil in my hair. Hours and hours go by without my knowing it.
The house has been quiet this week with Seth's absense. And without him yelling down the stairs for me to come to bed, I just stay up and paint and paint until all of the sudden my head is dizzy and I realize it's much too late. I mean, I have a job to get up for in the morning.
Last night was especially long as I was waiting for my husband's return. He's been in Georgia all week for work and because of this eery thick fog that seemed to all of the sudden rise up out of the ground, his flight was rerouted to Chicago. So he drove in the middle of the night and into the morning in thick fog completely exhausted while his wife sat up and painted and fretted and drank lots of coffee and waited for his return.
As wonderful as it is to have something so meaningful as painting to pour my heart into, it is even more wonderful to hear the steady breathing of a tired but safe husband lying right beside me.
I have much to tell you regarding this portrait I've been painting. But first...sleep.