Today I worked on a painting. It felt so good, so comfortable, to play with shapes and colors again.  This is my home, but it is a new home.  When I stood before my easel with a paintbrush in my hand, I thought how much this place reminds me of my old house. For decades, I had painted in my basement. I had LED work lights, but I still painted in the basement. Today I painted in the bright sunlight.  I guess it’s my stuff that makes this feel so familiar.  My furniture, my art box full of brushes, my books and cats all fit perfectly here.  I just had to figure out how the pieces went together.  The last month and a half have felt like a vacation. Now the newness is a fresh routine, and I can get back to being me again.

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