Stand Stills

They call them flashbacks, maybe because they come on so suddenly and take you back in time.  I would also say if you can't wish them away, you wish them to be mercifully brief.  Sometimes you get your wish, and sometimes you don't. 

These other moments in time that come on suddenly and take you back in time need a different sort of name because you wish you could hit pause and stay in that moment for as long as you need.

Here's two stand-stills I had today during an average work day:

Driving out of town for a meeting, I was struck with the image and sensation of sitting around after a Sunday dinner, just talking and laughing with my extended family.  I could see Cory crystal clear, dressed in a pair of faded jeans, hiphuggers just barely showing when she sat, a grey thermal top over a bright-colored cami, her hair up in a tiny pony, and her bright green eyes carrying a smile that hadn't yet passed her lips.  Just listening for the most part, she plopped her little hiny down in my lap, comfortable and content.  Like as not, I would grab her hand and we'd have a giggle over her freakishly small thumbs.  As we enjoyed some relaxed conversation with everyone, I could afford to get lost in a story or give her only my divided attention...you see, she was better now.  She was so much better, and I couldn't believe we'd made it through after so many miserable days and nights.

  I could joke and get my sisters to laugh, as I hadn't for quite awhile, because I knew I had done my job well, and could afford to relax.  She was right there, healthy and happy, chiming in when she wanted, and giggling right along with everyone else.  She was right there, all I needed was her weight settling into my bony knee to know we had made it, and she was just fine. 

That was my flashback on the road today, so real I could see the highlights in her hair, the curl of her lashes that framed those beautiful eyes, and actually feel the weight of her body pressing against my knee.  I wished I could stay there all afternoon.

That's a stand still, not a flashback.

Here's another: 

The last time I was in the coffeeshop, the uber talented artist who had his work on display during the Art Walk came in to take things down.  I watched his sure, easy gait, and thought of my father.  This similarly aged man had bright eyes, an easy smile, and charmed me with his outfit:  a pair of faded blue jeans speckled all over with bright paint, and a pair of croc-like loafers that were so splattered with drips, drabs, and splats that the background color of the shoes was no longer visible.

I complimented him, to which he responded, "Oh, these?  These are my 'studio' shoes.  I've been covered with paint in one way or another since the age of four."  He smiled and turned back to taking things down.

I put my head down, and had a stand still:  Cory, in her raggiest t-shirt, with a paintbrush clamped between her teeth, standing in front of her easel, pulling a pair of her grandpa's dockers up over her jeans.  I could see her face, alive and filled with the unparalleled excitement that said she had an idea, and she couldn't wait to capture it before it got away.  I thought of the many times I'd hounded her to wash her brushes out, and how cute she looked with a smudge of orange square in the middle of her chin.

When I raised my head to meet my friend's eyes, my face was shaking.  Did you know your face could shake?  I swear I have no control over my emotions these days.  To my friend, I whispered this, "She would have made so much more.  She just didn't have enough time."

On the way home, I thought about going into her bedroom and finding those Dockers or even a pair of her old jeans.  I want her with me when I paint.  She inspires me to give it my all.  She always has.