Fine Art Friday

One of our fellow art students brought an application form to class this week.

"It's for the young person's show associated with [insert name of national juried art show]. I thought you," she addressed the Misses, "might want to enter something."

The girls thoughtfully considered their work, then discussed their selections with the art instructor, who arranged the pieces around the room and asked everyone to chime in about their favorites. Today we'll mat the selected pieces, and over the weekend, we'll deliver them.

When I swam to the surface of wakefulness this morning, I remembered that we needed to leave sufficient time to mat the work and complete the application. I remembered that we'd need to find some time between studies and chores and the extended swim practice and the double piano lessons and, and... and then I remembered to breathe.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Ahhhhhh.

Today, at some point, the Misses and I will mat their work -- beautiful portraits that they completed last semester. I am appreciative that their older classmate thought their work merited inclusion in a show and pleased that my daughters are so confident of their art that they simply and graciously thanked the classmate for thinking of them. I am also appreciative of our art teacher, who is both direct and encouraging.

And I am proud -- but not for the reason you may think.

I am proud (if that is even the right word) because when the Misses swam to wakefulness this morning, they were, of course, aware of their obligations and activities, mindful of their opportunities and possible rewards, but they also remembered to observe the color of snow in the early morning, to add a few sentences to their latest stories and a few strokes to their art journals, to read what they wanted to read, to giggle and murmur, to greet me, to appreciate each other, to cuddle their cats, to relish the warmth of their beds for just one more minute.

In other words, they never forgot to breathe.

We must be doing something right around here, eh? Heh, heh, heh.

Take a cue from the Misses, folks: Breathe. Live.