It's 0 seconds until Then

We got the call at 12:24 a.m. It was Face Time with me - but I was texting my kid and couldn’t answer. I was telling him just tonight how much he means to me. I was telling him how proud I am of him and what I admire most about him that we had just had an in-person intimate conversation about an hour or two earlier. I had held his face in my hands, his soft ginger whiskers on my palms. I had looked him straight in the eye and told him how I felt. And he told me things about his life that felt so painful for a mother to hear.

But everyone left the party happy and feeling warm and loved from having fun and sharing laughs and jovial conversation.

And then we got the call. We were just settling in to bed. The cat, she climbed up on my chest like she always does, licking my chin to let me know how much she loves me. And the TV was glowing and not entertaining and we were tired from the busy day.

And then we got the call. The unbelievable call that you never expect. The call that you think will be about your ailing parent or aunt or uncle. The older ones. The ones who have had their full life—but it’s never full enough.

It’s 0 seconds until then.

It’s 0 seconds until you learn that your baby brother passed away. Right in front of her own eyes. Right in front of her sons eyes. Eyes that can’t believe what they’re seeing. Eyes that can’t believe what’s happening right before them.

It’s 0 seconds until it could happen to you or to me. It’s 0 seconds until everything you’ve known for all of your life is gone. Change.

They’d just been here a month before. First time in twenty years.

First time in twenty years.

Not serendipity necessarily. But time that was good to be spent.

0 seconds.

Don’t wait...

Unbelievable.

Hearts broken...

0 seconds.

Life.

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Copper Colorado

My mixed media piece, Copper Colorado, was completed in two separate phases. My canvas was Phase One. He came home with this plank that had been considered construction rubbish. When he told me it was a tread from someone's porch steps, I was intrigued. I began to scrutinize it and noticed a smudge of antique copper paint that had been stomped into the grain, but no one had managed to stomp it off over its many years. I noticed its receded soft grains which moved like canyon rivers and its hard grains became imposing Colorado Mesas above. I was motivated to uncover its textural treasures, and I cleaned it up as if I were an archeologist, so as not to disturb any of its landscape, but rather amplify it as is. The paint smudge remained and became integral. Phase Two was my realization of the purpose of the plank, which happened three or four years later. I stumbled upon some old battery cables that had big, gnarly terminals, and, more importantly, the copper wires were still sle

In Loving Memory...

I have an "inspiration" binder that I keep on a shelf in my office at home where I’ve collected pictures of things I've found in magazines. There's a few priceless treasures of artwork that my kids made me tucked in there too. I only add super special stuff - things that I know I'll love for the long term. Anyway, we were talking about a project at the house when I suddenly thought of a photo I wanted to share with Russ and brought the binder out. As I was flipping through these pages of images that I'd saved over a good decade of time, I found this little quote Mom had sent to me. I don't know when she sent it, but I had liked it so much. There it was, this two sentence quote that SHE must have cut out of a magazine. The words were highlighted in what was now a faded yellow marker and she’d written four little words above it on a hot pink sticky note in her beautiful cursive writing. A note just for me. Reminding me to believe in myself.

Welcome!! My name is Shelley. I live in a log house here in the foothills of the Colorado Rocky Mountains.. I've been doing some remodeling to my home. It's been a lot of fun, and I'm photo journaling my adventure! Thanks for joining me!!

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