My freshman year in college, I went on a retreat just days before classes started. It was for women in engineering and I remember only two things from it: an activity where we took stuff apart (This kind of stunk, there was no purpose) and a self portrait we painted. I went back to the paint table two or three times to get enough poster paint for my masterpiece. I thought it was pretty self explanatory, but apparently no one got it. The gist of it was that I was the orange square. With lots going on inside but no outward sign of it. With lots of eyes on me, but not looking at them. Looking inward.
When I got home, I hung it up in my dorm, and then in my apartment, and then carried it around with me as we moved to LA, to the rental, and then in here. And finally, 9 years after painting it, I framed it. For the last six months, it's sat on the floor (upside down, to boot) and Abby has loved staring at the reflective surface.
But finally, finally, this weekend, I got it hung up in my craftroom. It's somehow symbolic that both it and I have found our forever home.
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