Galveston
I leave Galveston tomorrow, on New Year’s Day, for a five-hour drive back to Dallas. It seems fitting that I will probably leave Texas altogether sometime in the new year, after living in and around Dallas for the last 15 years.
I came to Texas full of ambition, taking on a job that would be the capstone of my career. That is long gone now. It is time to leave. I’m a different person now. Life is pulling me elsewhere.
I have no imperative other than I want to move. There is no school, job or new soon-to-be-ex spouse to wrap myself in and give myself a new identity. In my mid-sixties, this is the first time in my life that I will have moved simply because I wanted to move. Many, many people get to do this, and from a earlier age, without qualms. But it feels like such a luxury to me, and it comes with some fear.
I am afraid that things will go wrong.
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But I know that I am enough, and I have done oodles of preparation. Even so, I don’t have to make it work perfectly. Whatever happens, I will be ok.
I look forward to starting a new chapter in my life. One with fewer “shoulds” and “must dos”, and more “because I want tos”.
My painting is taking me there.
It is said that some painters can have their heads in front of their hands. They may think of ideas and struggle with how to paint them. My hands have always been in front of my head. Sometimes it takes me years to figure out why I am painting the way I am.
It gives me some comfort to know that my painting is already taking me to the new place. I’m just along for the ride.
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