The moments of connecting come just as randomly as the triggers. Here's two in as many days:
I drew a sketch of Cory in my Hobonichi the other day and water colored it, hoping like mad it captured something of her likeness. Although art has kept me alive these last couple of years, I rarely attempt to draw her, afraid of failing and somehow not keeping her image alive. I surveyed it...certainly not a realistic, photo-perfect rendering, but something around the eyes and mouth said Cory-Girl to me. I finally decided, her cheeks needed a little color, and in an effort not to go overboard, dipped my fingertip into the wet paint and dabbed it onto her cheeks on the paper. In that instant, I experienced the oddest sensation of doing her makeup one more time. It was bittersweet, poignant, and full.
And today, a memory came up on my Facebook feed: a picture of Cory and I cozied up in a booth, ,just talking and waiting to order some dinner. I ate that picture up with my eyes: her hands, the set of her shoulder, her head tilted right into mine. It was a posture that spoke of love, safety, and having a confidante. I lived to be her rock, and that picture tells me I succeeded. I want to memorize the way she held herself, burn every image of her into my brain so that we will always, always be together.
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