Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

It seems like just yesterday I was sitting in my empty little apartment, listening to the radiator clank and enjoying the newness of my environment. And yet it was seven months ago. Now I sit in my fully furnished apartment listening to non-stop hissing of the radiator. Wishing it would stop. It’s been hissing all day. It’s like having the tea kettle on the stove constantly, minus the whistle. Usually. Sometimes the radiator does whistle for a moment, so I try to sit as far away from it as I can in case it finally blows up.
Looking around my apartment, I finally feel at home here. Like this is my home. Yesterday I spied a painting at the thrift store, and it immediately appealed to me. It was just the right size to fill my one empty wall, but on first glance I didn’t think it matched anything in my apartment. In my efforts to re-invent/discover/build my new life, I’ve deliberately chosen pieces of art and furniture that I wouldn’t normally choose. Which is why I initially passed on the painting.
It’s a country scene with a forest, field and old wooden barn, with a gold/yellowish mist-like coloring that makes the whole painting look like it’s either basking in sunlight and reflecting the rays, or covered in a dusting of snow. It’s in a dark wooden frame, and it reminds me of home. So I snatched it up and brought it home on the bus. I was a little concerned about the room it would take up on the bus, it’s nearly as big tall as I am and twice as wide. And the bus was packed. Only one man even acknowledged the fact that I was carrying a large piece of artwork on public transit.
“Nice painting. Did you paint it?” He asked.
“No. Just picked it up because it reminds me of home.” I said.
“Where’s home?”
The moment I hung the painting on the wall I knew I’d made the right choice. The bold frame and sheer size of it immediately made it the focal point of the apartment. When I stood back to look at it, it made me feel like I could walk right into that field. Like my own personal extension beyond the walls of my apartment, like a magic balcony that I could step out onto. We had a similar painting hanging on the wall when I was growing up, and Tim has one hanging at his house. (Possibly the same one).

November 23, 2011 - Posted by | Uncategorized

1 Comment »

  1. Tabs, Have a wonderful Thanksgiving. I miss talking to You, But am thankful that You were/are in my life.
    Love You, George

    Comment by George | November 23, 2011 | Reply

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