As I

As I emptied the buckett in the sink, rinsed out the rags, I thought about Gregg, an old University friend who worked with restoring paintings at the local museeum. I dried my hands and reached for the phone, he was out of the office so I left him a message and decided to finish what I had started.

It took me several hours, and with aching arms and shoulders I lay down to admire my work and that of an unknown artist, unknown to me. The background was lights blue with wisps of white clouds as thin as a breath, one child, birds, and a woman with a wonderfully warm smile, trees, and the arm, of what I assumed was a man, since the arm was wiry and seemingly strong.

I lost myself in its beauty, the serenity it gave and the many things to see, more with every minute. The phone rang, snapped me out of my reverie, it was Gregg.