It took me many years to go back to Van Dyke Road. The place I grew up. I don’t know what worried me the most – if it would be the same, or if it had changed. I am able to write about it now, those days on that road, because I understand that actually both are true, and will forever be true, and that’s OK. 

I painted this bird. It landed on a flower pot that I had placed outside because I was trying to coax the plant back to life with a little sun. A little fresh air. I had just given it a good drink when this beautiful little bird sat down on the edge. It was only a moment. But in the painting, I feel the movement. The energy of the plant – still trying. The energy of the bird, perhaps showing it the way. And it is alive. 

Everything is a moment to be captured. The Van Dyke Road I grew up on is kept alive with heart and hands and memories. It is in the falling off of bikes, and friends made, and families broken, gravel stuck in shoes, and hope stuck in hearts. Today’s Van Dyke Road is alive and well and making its way on and through the hearts of those that live there. It’s all just a moment, and oh, it is beautiful!