A Wholesome Painting

As a kid, one of my best memories was to watch my mother paint. I mean could get any more perfect! She was strong, fierce, independent, she loved her kids and cared for everyone at home. And her solace was in these water colors and drawing sheets.

She would would paint landscapes, starry nights, and rainy storms, it was beautiful. And when I'd look at her paint, she'd hand me a brush and a paper and teach me. I learnt most of what I know by looking at her work. And it would be such a typical mother-daughter bonding event. I'd spend hours using her paints and her brushes to make my stupid sun and hills sceneries. And she would always be so proud. I would beam with happiness, I would go around the house showing everyone the paintings approved by my mother!

My mom would sometimes show me techniques to paint better. She even taught me to sketch and shade. This was a lot of my childhood, a lot of my happy memories. My love with colours and art is all due to my mom.

And as what happens usually, my mom used to have less and less time on her hands to pursue her hobbies. Supporting my dad and taking care of my brother and me, took a toll on her hobbies. But I kept going, and I'd paint and she'd still help me sometimes, and I'd show her whatever I made.

Then I grew up, a lot of things changed, even the frequency of talking to my mom has decreased shamefully. Which is sad and a real side of adulting, I guess. I left home to pursue higher studies when I was 15. These years went by without me touching anything remotely artsy. And I didn't realise it at the time, but this was a core bond in my relationship with my mother, which I'd let loose.

Eventually I did start painting, and without consciously thinking, I would hurriedly take a picture and send my mother. Not my dad, not my brother, but only her. And it wasn't until a few days ago when I made this, that I started thinking about why I would only share this with my mom.

Some things which you do as a child, impact you in ways that will affect your whole life. Using colors, seeing the brush strokes make something comprehensible, is a more giving and satisfying experience than most. And sharing this with my mother for over 20 years, that has been the core of our bond, makes a normal painting, a wholesome painting.