Those Little "Inklings" of Thought

Since my daughter and her family have been home in the states, finding mother-daughter time isn’t always easy, especially with a six month old.  Yesterday, we were able to do just that.  Except, it didn’t quite turn out as we planned.

She and her husband stay in a nearby recreational community where we own a park model.  I drove over to pick her up.  Her husband agreed to watch the baby for the afternoon.  We were looking forward to some clothes shopping.  A change in season is always a good excuse for a new wardrobe.

As we drove away, I felt this sudden urge to swing over to a friend's place who also lives in the park.  “I want to run by Val’s, if that’s okay.” It had been two years since I’d seen her.  At least ten for my daughter.  She and Val's son had gone to high school together.

The Louisiana tags told me Val still lived there.  I told my daughter, Lori I would be right back.  I knocked on the patio door.  I could hear the television.  No answer.  I knocked, again.  Maybe she was in the shower.  No answer.  Hmmm.  I ran back to the car and rummaged in the console for a piece of paper to write a note on.  “Maybe she’s gone out,” my daughter suggested.  “Oh, that’s right.  She’s probably out and about with her girlfriends.”  I folded the note and stuck in the handle of the patio door.  Off we went.

Just as we approached the stop sign at the end of her street, two women in a golf cart approached.  At first, I didn’t recognize either of them.  Then, the one on the left looked familiar.  Quickly, I hit my window button.  Val caught sight of me, "Shelley!"  At the same time, I hollered, “Hey! I’m coming over!”  “C’mon,” she hollered, waving her arm in the air for me to join her, as the golf cart rolled on.

Once again, I pulled in behind her car.  Val was running from her friend's house across her yard.  “Just c’mon in.  I’ve got to go the bathroom.” 

My intention was to stay for a few minutes, enough to say hello, and plan for a future get together.  After all, my daughter and I had shopping to do. But, it wasn’t to be.

We went in and waited for her return.  We greeted each other with a hug and she invited us into the kitchen. Immediately, three stone paintings caught my eye.  I was captivated.  “Oh, Val!” was all I could say.  All of a sudden, I felt as though I had been transported from one world into another.  

There was a certain spirit (if you may) that drew me in.  I almost forgot how much I enjoyed being with Val and being surrounded by her creativity.   

The conversation between the three of us began to energize.  After oogling over the various artwork in the kitchen area, we moved into the living area.  Her creative spirit was evidenced throughout.

Val began to tell us about a friend who wanted her to make a few more things to take to one of the craft fairs.  While she was talking, it reminded me of the last time I was with her.  I had mentioned she needed to put her art on Facebook.   “You’ve got to have a Facebook page designated for your artwork. You’ll reach far more people than you would at a craft fair.”  

 “I don’t know how to do that,” she said, to which I was more than happy to help.  And, so I did.  Once, the page was set up, I invited all her friends to “like” her.  I did the same for my friends, too.  

Our conversation circled from friends and family to searching for more smooth, flat stones to the kind of acrylics she used.  We agreed to join her Monday at 1:00 for the park’s craft time.  “I don’t do their stuff.  I just bring my own and work with them.” That’s what we’ll do, too.

Four hours later, our conversation was slowing down, and so was I.  I’m sure if I had a little bit more energy, our visit could have spilled into the evening hours.  After my daughter and I arrived home, we kept checking Val’s page.  Her beautiful work was traveling the world.

It had been months, maybe years, since I’d had a conversation of the likes, not to mention with someone I had an artistic kin with.  It was wonderful.  That night, as I lay in bed, a feeling of elation welled up inside of me.  My day had been better than I could have ever planned or dreamed: all because I allowed myself to get sidetracked.   In the dark of my bedroom, I smiled to myself.  Every bit of my being lit up.

Do you allow for those little "inklings" of thought to disrupt your plans? Were the results something you were glad for?

(Side bar: these are just a few of the things Val does.  She also does gourd painting, and makes jewelry. Visit her on FB at Native Art by Val T)