My Mother's Last Purse
Oil on Wood
Yesterday afternoon, I came upon my mother's last purse stashed away in a closet. I wept. Again. Encountering this relic of her life, I felt her presence and her absence as deeply as the day she died, over 10 years ago. She was always looking for the perfect purse to carry life's necessities. It still contains her comb, a little kleenex, her wallet, id card, coin purse, and keys. I can't part with it. This morning, my friend, Pam, suggested it be the start of a new series, "My Mother's Last Purse." Good idea. Maybe I'll line the walls with daily paintings of my mother's purse. Or maybe I'll paint its contents. We'll see where this goes.