Mother Hen and I were always encouraging each other in art and other creative endeavors. Today, a find brought that home…
I’ve been trying to sort and clean just one bag, box, or corner at a time. Today it was a to-go-bag that we would use whenever we headed to a doctor office, went for tests, or drove to the ER. Along with all the typical stuff I found a tiny notebook on the bottom. Most of the pages are empty, but on several is her quite unique handwriting. Notes to herself, things to look up, other artists to look up…
And several pages of names. She loved to look for new names for me to use in my stories. She would make these lists on anything within hand-reach. Notebooks, scraps of paper, backs of envelopes.
That mind was always working. So was her wanting to help. She was always trying to help.
I have many writer friends and find it sad how many have family who are not supportive. I find that so very sad.
I never had any doubt of her support (or Father Rooster’s, for that matter). I’m very glad to say that I never left any doubt of my support for her art, too. She often said she wouldn’t have been as good a painter or done as much as she did without it.
Well, Mother Hen, I wouldn’t have this much writing done, or be this far without you, either. We were the wind beneath each other’s wings, and that’s something I deeply miss each and every day.
I hope each and every one of you have surrounded yourselves with people, and hopefully some family, who are supportive of your creative endeavors.