Muth sleeps in the circle of her daughters. We alternately weep, yawn, leave to take walks in the sunshine and fresh air of the great outdoors, dredge up memories of all sorts, wield a flyswatter, knit, solve advanced math problems, complete puzzles, and dissolve into laughter.
Futh joins us, or plays chess with Kim in the lobby, or works sudoku, or nods off, or sits alone with Muth. He takes his daughters out to lunch, tells jokes with impeccable mastery, sheds tears.
I pull out my mini portable studio and fiddle with mixed media again.
Ugly for ages but therapeutic nonetheless, and I am open to trying this and that to see what might emerge with materials I don't typically use. In the end I gather up this day with my family, stitch it together, and find its complexity and radiance manifested in pastel, watercolor pencil, and ink.
6x8", mixed media on watercolor paper