Watercolor Memories

Remembering an artistic morning long ago.

My face was blue. And red. And a smear of yellow. As for my brother, he wore some of each, as well as a few streaks of green. And on the the kitchen wall behind us, the aged pale tan background was spattered with blotches of the entire rainbow palate.

We were lucky in two ways. The wallpaper was washable, and our parents shared a healthy sense of humor. Cleanup would come later. But first, Dad headed for the movie camera.

Fifty-some years later, Mom and Dad are gone, and my brother and I lead very different lives, two-hundred miles from each other. But I still have a tired old black and white memory of that Christmas morning long ago, and a movie camera that might or might not still work.

Maybe that morning was my inspiration, maybe not. But since then I've dabbled in various forms of art, some of which adorn the walls of my home, among several much better pieces my wife has done. I haven't "worked" with watercolor since that morning long ago, but who knows. Someday I just might buy a box (or whatever type of package that's now sold), and treat our kitchen wall to a new look.

Or, maybe not.