Time to Paint


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The sun had just barely risen above the ragged ridges of the mountains in front of me. The jagged peaks fragmented the sunlight which poured its golden hues across the landscape. Hundreds of sunflowers turned towards the radiant light. I stood in the middle of this field in awe of the world around me. There comes a time when the visual landscape becomes so beautiful that it creates a melody of its own. It was such an enchanting melody. 

BEEP BEEP

The sound of my alarm clock was a harsh awakening. All at once I was stripped away from the beautiful landscape and was forced to look up at my plain white ceiling. I was 30 years old and already I felt like a robot. Just a human going through the motions. I closed my eyes and tried to force myself back into the beautiful world I had just dreamed up. Thinking about the beautiful landscape and its melody, simply made me feel human again. 

BEEP BEEP

It was the sound of my alarm again, reminding me that I was late to work. I sat up and looked at the wall in front of me. All of a sudden it didn’t look like a wall. It looked like a canvas. A canvas that could make my dream more of a reality. My heart started beating faster and I leapt out of bed towards the wall. A new energy was coursing through my veins and I was ready. I had never painted a thing in my life, but now I was going to. I finally had the energy to get ready for my day. I was dressed and ready to go within 15 minutes, something that hadn’t happened in at least 5 years.

“PAINTING CLASSES $15 A CLASS!” I read from the flyer hanging outside the grocery store. It had to be a sign that I was on the right track. I quickly ran home to tell my husband about my dream and my desire to paint it. 

“You want to spend hundreds of dollars on painting classes and materials just because you had a dream?” my husband asked. 

I glared at him, “Yes, I have a dream to paint this beautiful scene that came to me in a dream and I want to be able to see it even when I’m awake. I don’t see what you’re so confused about.” 

“Fine. Do as you please.”, he replied walking out of the room. 

I think he wanted me to feel bad and interrupt me. But I didn’t care. I needed to do this. I couldn’t explain why I needed this so badly even if I tried. 

“Painting Class 5PM-6PM Monday to Friday” I wrote down in my calendar. I would be starting class tomorrow. 

-----------------------------Five Years Later---------------------------------

The wall no longer looked like a plain white wall. Instead it looked like the entry to a nightmare. The ground was littered with dead flowers that crunched and crackled with every step you took. Though the sun was rising, you wouldn’t be able to tell. There was no more music instead there was silence. A silence that was almost deafening. 

“Why did you paint this?” he asked, horrified. 

I continued to stare at the painting, “I didn’t. They made me.” 

He stared at me in shock, “Who?”

“Well when you told me I had to take the kids to soccer practice instead of going to my “stupid” painting class at 5, I had to go to a different painting class. That’s where I learned how to paint the landscape, but I must admit the teacher was a bit negative. You tried to interrupt me on my journey to happiness, because you said my only duty was to take care of my kids” I said laughing softly. 

I had sent out a mass invite to a number of people, so that they could come see my masterpiece. The VIP guests included my husband, and my boss. 

An hour had passed since my husband came in to look at my painting and now it was time for my boss to come in. 

“This is a nightmare! Couldn’t you have at least used color to brighten it up a bit?” he said with a scowl.  

“Well, no I couldn’t. You decided to pass me up on a promotion simple because I was a woman. You and I know that I was more qualified for that job. So I decided to not give myself the luxury of being able to paint with color.” I said not facing him. 

“That’s nonsense. The candidate I picked was qualified!” he barked back while stepping away from me. 

“He may be qualified, but is he more qualified than I was?” I screamed turning to face him. 

He stumbled backwards, eyes wide with fear. 

I laughed, “you clearly have the answer already.” 

I continued to stare at my painting. This wasn’t what it was supposed to be. However, the number of interruptions I had faced from my family and society changed what my painting became. It wasn’t my dream. It was reality. 









        

 

        

 

 

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