A Painter at Heart

My favorite paint brush is made from natural hair, but I have no idea about the origin. The very best brushes (those used by artists) are made from the Siberian weasel (or sable). Mine is probably made from horse hair or goat hair or maybe even squirrel or possum hair. I never buy the most expensive thing in the store.

Yesterday Willow wanted to watch as I put another coat of paint on the baseboards upstairs. Project managers do this sometimes, I'm guessing, because they get bored with their "managing." They get nostalgic about those days before they traded in their craft and became a boss, those days when they were younger.

I knew that in Willow's case her younger self was a painter, and so I wasn't surprised when she wanted to come and watch me paint.

But as with any type of nostalgia--like with a middle-aged accountant who played football in high school or an old programmer who was once a musician--the old memories can sometimes seep into the present moment so that we believe we are young again and doing the things again that we once did well.

So while I wasn't looking, Willow took up her old natural-hair brush and began helping me with the baseboards. Yes, she still has a great brush, but I see now why see went into management.