A big storm blew in, the day after Christmas, and for a stretch, the world was filled with wind and sky and the howling power of nature. The next day, you’d not have known such violence existed.

In the blanket of calm that came after the storm, I walked through our quiet, white yard, and felt like the only person in the word. My footsteps broke the surface, and I was the adventurer.

In the branches overhead, swaying in a sudden burst of wind, a hawk alighted and hung on. I stared up at him and he hesitated, spread his wings and glided off, an impossibly large creature wending through branches I’d not have thought a sparrow could fit through.

I love the violence of the storm, and the bout of peace that follows. Like waking and sleeping, breathing in and breathing out, it defines and sustains us all at once.

This was the fifth Christmas I’ve lived through without my mother, and the first I’ve gotten through without being swept by sadness. Time might not heal, but it covers the wind and the rage and the storming pain with something quiet and tender and not unlike the snow.

This painting is 36×48, oil on canvas. Please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com for price and delivery information.

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This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 4th, 2011 at 10:55 am and is filed under Carrie Jacobson. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.