Transitions

 

I love to paint transitions. The moment day turns to night, night to day. A tide rolling in or out with the swirls of waves and foam. I really don't know how you could paint a landscape that isn't in transition. Even portraits are just snapshots of moments in time. We are all constantly in transitional movement. 

In my home there has been a lot of growth and transition happening. It has been a summer of firsts for each of my children. Each first extremely different, yet a part of life for all. There have been new relationships, maturity, and driving. Along with pretty much everyone now being taller than mom. Maybe the youngest will halt at my eye level, but I doubt it.

It is such a blessing for me to witness all of this growth along with a pang of good grief. A grief I'm allowing myself to process along with the blessings. In one instance I'm in awe at their growth and who they're becoming. The next, I'm not needed in the same way and feel a little out of sorts in knowing where to be for them. There are more moments of stillness with them, and then comes the "Mom, I need you to..." 

It's normal. A joy to witness. I'm focusing in on the hugs, laughter, and learning how to show up for them in new ways. I'm shifting along with them. And with the unsteadiness a shift can bring, I ground myself through painting and tending to the garden. I paint those transitions in the landscape as reminders. To remember that even when the changes are a little challenging and bittersweet, there is so much more love unfolding within it and on the other side too.