She opened up the watercolors. She shuffled to the sink in the kitchen and pulled herself up onto the marble counter. Once her knees were pressed onto the counter, white from the pressure, she opened the cupboard and grabbed a plastic cup. It was a Kona Ice cup from Penny’s soccer game. It was a bright pink, and Pam filled it up with water to the brim the gently walked it over to the kitchen table, avoiding any escaping water drops. 

Pam gingerly picked up the paintbrush, dipping it into the water and then the powdery paint. Once the tip of the brush touched the circle of paint, the color morphed into a darker tone and a stickier paste consistency. The water overtook the once pastel, pale color and overcame the bland facade. 

Water. Paint. Paper.

Water. Paint. Paper.

The strokes slowly formed what was painted in her mind for safekeeping. 

She painted each brick shades of maroon and red. Little bushes formed with pressing of the brush on the paper came to life with each mark. As time went on, the bushes grew in confidence with the amount of space they were willing to fill in the empty, quiet space. 

Her hands seemed to flow with each stroke, creating shapes and colors as they touched the white paper. The paper once with no identity grew with personality and self-esteem. The colors swirled and softened as they mixed with and relied on one another.

••

The school was tiny for a school that held students from preschool to eighth grade. It had a hard time finding teachers to teach in the school and rarely had events to entertain the students because of a lack of funds. So when Jim saw the poster, he had to hold himself back from jumping up and down from the grey carpet with bubbling excitement. 

It was a white poster, but in block letters “art show” was written across it with a date below it. There was a paintbrush drawn next to the words to enhance the visual appeal of the poster. The bright colors caught any wondering eyes with the vibrant shades. 

As his enthusiasm grew, he imagined how thrilled Pam would be to hear this- he couldn’t wait to see her eyes get big with the pleasant surprise, allowing the sun to catch onto them and make the green of her eyes as vibrant as the poster. The sun always stayed in her bright eyes, dancing with passion when she was truly happy. He could see her shy, timid smile painted on the back of his eyelids when he let them close. He loved how she wrung her hands, firmly pressing into her palms when she was feeling anything positive but trying to suppress the emotion to keep her thoughts closed off with a dark tinted window that is sometimes seen on minivans or sunglasses. Yet, he managed to find a way to let her see the sun authentically through a clear glass, allowing her to express herself. He seemed to be able to see into her emotions, making a clear spot in her tinted glass box her fear had created to keep her confined from judgment and uncertainty. Her found a way to replace a part of tinted glass with clear, prescription glass that allowed twenty-twenty vision into her restless mind. He didn’t need her to speak a word to hear her thoughts.

••

The brown began to blend with the auburn paint as the water allowed movement. The colors went against water cohesion and spread through the bumps of the rough paper. The two lines formed parallel to one another were topped off with a joining line. Four grey curving zigzag lines fell softly from the top beam but stopped halfway, untouchable from the little lines of painted lush grass below them. A black semicircle with a grey ombre effect created by the paint to enhance the glare of the sun joined the first two grey lines to one another and the third and forth to one another. 

Pam knew it wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. She finally allowed herself to step back and take in the landscape she had painted. She allowed more mistakes and chances in this watercolor and she felt relief as she acknowledged wasn’t full of regret. Watercolor was unforgiving with mistakes, but she found herself able to create with the mistakes and enhance it even more than it looked initially. Taking a chance sometimes worked out and if it didn’t, she could find a way to paint the mistake into her life. Sometimes a little courage is all that is needed to take a chance. Jim had given her a lot more than a plastic container of watercolors.