Paint something

My favorite aunt passed away last week. As a child, I was amazed at her career. She was a painter. While all the other women in the world (that I knew about) were housewives or school teachers, she was doing something that just didn't fit. It was cool. She could do fantastic bird whistles too. For years, every time I picked up a paint brush, I thought of her. The last time I saw her, I told her how painting reminded me of her. It felt good. She was talking about getting a replaced knee replaced (it had worn out after 20 years of use). I really don't like painting but thinking of her whistling while she painted makes it a bit less boring for me. I painted for several hours last week.