The flow of water and words

Ugh, painting a basket of fruit didn't sound very interesting to me...but that was the assignment in my last art class. How many baskets of fruit have been painted over the centuries? I didn't figure they needed one more. But as I looked at the colors and shapes and played with the paint...all of a sudden I realized it didn't seem so boring anymore.

To my surprise, here I am......discovering all the different colors you can see in just one piece of fruit, amazing myself with the way the water on the brush draws out the pigment on my paper, causing it to flow in lovely ways. My dad comes in and sits by me. I think this is the first time anyone has ever watched me paint. He, who claims to have no artistic abilities or interests, seems intrigued by what is holding my fascination. I try to explain why I am spending my time this way, but realize I can't, so I offer, "I have no idea why I love painting" and just continue to paint.

He seemed to understand that there was no answer. He asked questions about how the paint and water work , mixed in with our usual, causal conversation. Seemed like the easy comfort I felt with my dad flowed like water to draw out the tart and curious questions with which he colored our conversation. Ah, the joy of painting with watercolor and the joy of a conversation that flows.