In the Studio

It really only took a full day to do the bulk of it- half a day to sort through toys, and another half a day to hangs things up.  It is now, hands down, my favorite room in the house.  I even briefly considered setting up a futon on the far end, and sleeping out here.  As a bonus, I could take the bed out, and turn my bedroom into a walk-in closet.

Basically, being in the studio gives me the same kind of feeling as being at the coffee shop without having to leave the house, except the fact that I don't have a steaming hot, delicious salted caramel mocha in front of me.  But that feeling of going to see Cory is still there.  She is here as I look at her paintings, her love as visible as every brushstroke.  Cory would've have went absolutely nuts over this space, made solely for creating.  I feel so guilty for not thinking to make it when she was here...the times we could've had together out here, laughing, listening to music, and making a genuine mess.  It would've been beautiful.  Last night, I stayed up till 2 a.m., a funny movie playing on my laptop as I painted.  I felt certain Cory was watching along.  Crazy?

Going to the coffee shop daily was my way to commune with Cory.  The cemetery is still counter productive.  It is a lovely, peaceful spot, but I am never lovely or peaceful when I am there.  Instead, I turn into a bitter, hate-filled, sobbing wreck, ready to stick my head out the car window as I pull away, screaming, "Give me back my child!"  to the trees standing there in a silent, wistful line.

Just so you know, there is never an answer to this demand.  I leave with pains in my chest, and an urge to destroy.  Faces start shuffling through my mind...who contributed to this madness?  Who can I yell at?  Who can I blame?  All too often, I glance up into my rearview mirror, and settle on my most frequently abused target...myself.  What punishment is suitable for killing your own child through bad judgment and pure laziness?  Not eating?  Not sleeping?  Not being alive, when she is not?  So many ways to suffer, but none enough to pay my dues.

So yes, this little studio of mine will at least keep me from breaking things, and it allows me to spend some quality time with my girl, at any hour, in any state of dress.  I am now in one of her Hello Kitty t-shirts, rocking some polka dot pajama pants, getting ready to eat a yogurt and draw.  Maybe tell Cory about my day.