Life gets in the way sometimes, and so the charcoal pencils get left behind. Most recently, all the pencils are wrapped up in boxes labeled with the names of their stuff inside and sent away to some foreign room or left prisoner in the dark of a space that was trying to finally breathe again.

I must be doing some things correctly, I said to a hiding sun disappearing behind magic mountain islands.

Painting walls makes people smile, and so I find myself on St. John, USVI, making walls smile with swimmy things. I win today, as I am in a beautiful place and I am making things.

Sugar ants have found their way into the keys of my laptop. My children and I introduce sand to the sheets on the bed that we are sharing. We see fish through the water, and then we are fish in the water.

I lighten the load. Keeping nothing, as usual, I walk away from everything to gain more. My bags returning will be less heavy than when we started.

Painting walls for others is an incredibly different process than seeking a goal with charcoal, than finding an answer or finding the right explanation through oil paint. Painting walls is fast and silly, and in the end I find myself enjoying the hurried work of it. The puzzle of color and shape and form is always there, no matter the content.