Oil on canvas board, 5″ x 7″
This holiday season I watched the old television production of Truman Capote’s “A Christmas Memory” yet again. It is one of my favorite Christmas stories, and if you haven’t yet read it or listened to it or watched it, I envy you. You’re in for a treat. The closing lines:
And when that happens, I know it. A message saying so merely confirms a piece of news some secret vein had already received, severing from me an irreplaceable part of myself, letting it loose like a kite on a broken string. That is why, walking across a school campus on this particular December morning, I keep searching the sky. As if I expected to see, rather like hearts, a lost pair of kites hurrying toward heaven.
I also love Joanna Newsom’s song, “Flying a Kite.”
Paint Fumes 