She stood back admiring her handiwork, with a self styled smile of smugness...it had been a long hard winter..
Ever since the accident she wondered if she still had the skills. Life before was so easy she thought, get up, potter around the house and then pick up a little of what you fancied. She was determined that the accident would not run her life..it was a shock, yes she remembered like it was yesterday. Funny how one minute all is well ...and then wham out of the blue life deals you something....curved balls from nowhere...it had taken a herculean effort to get back to this point....life was full of promise...she sighed wistfully. Still she was grateful, to be able to hold the brushes in her hand, smell that wonderful aroma that only painting with oils can produce, gave her the inspiration.
Looking behind her she was surrounded by hundreds of beautiful images, each one she could look at for hours recalling intimate thoughts and stories she smiled... memories of the past and intuition...what a funny thing.
She was tired, just to paint was an effort....there will be other days, but for now it was taking a lot out of her. Putting her brushes down, wiping the unmistakable smell of turps from her hand. She stopped, it felt good to be here.
