The story he told to get me here (see a teary, shocked, thrilled me above) to show me "my painting" was that his credit card had been found and was being held for him at this gallery in Park City (the painting had been in storage and was re-hung for the occasion--as well as the lights being dimmed and music muted and gallery door locked). Our quiet, intimate, exchange in front of "This Splendid Inconvenience" had even the gallery owner getting all misty-eyed . That was the beginning of August in Utah.
This was in Durham, on Monday. I was so nervously excited, the UPS delivery dude, I'm sure, thought I was a loco lady.
Here it is, yet to be hung on our mantle. And some close ups below.
I love sitting on the couch nursing Avery, staring at this. I love that the kids have already determined who they are in the painting. I love everything about how it looks and what it means to me and to Craig and to the family we've established together.
And, no, this does not mean we will be having six more children. There is such a thing as eternal increase, you know--meaning after this life.
In this life, we are already full. We are filled. I am filled by the man whose arm is around me and by the children at the foot of the bed. To these, I wake up each morning. And sometimes I smile, sometimes I sing, and sometimes I make breakfast.