I've watched too much news. I sleep and dream of those suffering in India, the faces caught on cameras gasping for breath. The only solace I can find (there is no solace) is that loved ones are right there next to them, touching them, holding their hands, massaging their backs. I cannot imagine (please God let me never know) the loneliness of a sterile hospital room with faceless strangers and no one you love to be with you in that fear.
Two weeks have passed since my husband left for Ethiopia. It's been just the children and I, painting and walking and picking up pieces of gratitude.
The days are still hot with evening storms that come and go. It's my favourite time in Kenya, the rains. Everything is so green and the air tastes pure.
We are planning our return to our beloved island. With quarantines and the way the world is we are just taking it a day at a time. Hopeful, but cautious.
I am looking forward to getting home and taking on larger projects. I am not sure how much I want to work on a larger scale. There is something in the intimacy of small paintings that I find myself drawn to. But I am open to exploring and seeing what becomes.
Thank you to those who sent personal letters for me to keep this little blog going. I am writing for you.