LovePrints.
Leaving behind good. Actively enhancing the future. Leaving your good in others.
I never knew that I had “the look”. I did not understand my hands. I took my smile for granted. I never thought about dancing. I never chased a baseball. If fell naturally to me. I certainly had no idea why.
I have looked in the mirror every day of my life and never understood what I was seeing. Its like looking at a work of art as paint is added, rather than seeing the finished art in its glory. I did not understand the colors. I lived them, but I did not know why they were chosen. I noticed when the colors were splashed about. I was there for the mistakes, and present when great strokes met the canvas. I never understood the artist. I had no idea what his life was about. I did not know if he painted in the city, the country, or on a mountain top. I did not know his love, or his pain. I did not know what he looked like. I simply knew there was an artist with a work in progress. I did not know what the end piece would look like, but I knew that It would make more sense if I knew who he was.
I recently found the face of the artist. I can look into his eyes and see what he was working from. I can see some of his other masterful work, and I can understand his successes and failures. I can now see more of what he saw. I never will get to ask him what he saw or how he felt. I can imagine more clearly now. I recognize that now because I have his eyes.
I can now look at his work more completely. I can not change the strokes to canvas, but I can understand them. I can see his hands, and they are so much like mine. I can see the strength in them, and the gentle touch. I can see his hand movements and placement, and they are familiar. I can stare at his hands as I have often stared at mine. They are mine. They are my daughters. They are my grandsons. They are ours.
I will never see him move. That is a loss that may be a deep as any. I will never get to know his laugh, nor will I get to see his smile up close. But, I have the mirror, and that seems to explain a lot. I can imagine his movements through his other art, and it makes me smile just typing this. I got to hear stories of how the family moves, and it makes perfect sense. Naturally, they move like I do.
The smile in the mirror is important. He gave it to all his children. It is unique. It has power. It has light. It has purpose. I see it in their faces, and I see it in the mirror. I see comfort, balance, and confidence. I know the smile. I know the grin. Something good is coming.
I never chased baseball. I never pursued it. It just was in me. It called. It often shouted. It gave. It taught. It celebrated. It cheered. It never failed me. I never chased a baseball. It fell naturally to me. I understand that now. I was meant to catch it.
I stop in front of the mirror now. The art that I have seen before has more meaning, more value. The mirror has not changed. The information has. I know the artist. I know his work. I know why.
Now, I know why.
