When I was a little kid, my mom and I would stay up late painting together at the dining room table. She would paint in water colors or oil paints, and I would paint miniatures.
Some nights we'd listen to music and paint quietly; other nights we'd talk about color and textures and light. Most nights, around midnight, we'd take a break and run out to the seven eleven to get slurpees for me, my sister, and her.
I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for her, being a single mother. We didnt have much money, so a midnight slurpee run was a big treat (as was a new pot of paint.)
It's been about ten years since she passed (cancer, ofc). I miss her, but sometimes I see her in my dreams. And in my kids. And I think of her every time I get paint on my fingers, or pass a 7/11, or glance at the clock and see that it's almost midnight.
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