Perhaps it was because she was “giving us the keys to it,” but when Mrs. Bergstrom wrote the word ‘cast’ on the chalk board and called out to my hand that shot in the air, I yelled proudly, “Castle!” Her hair was pulled back so tightly, her smile was almost permanent, but this was more than that, almost gentle was her grin, “No,” she said softly, “but almost, and it’s a great word.” She let me come to the board and write out my word. Showed me the difference. It was an error in spelling, yes, but it never felt like a mistake. It felt like learning. I suppose that’s the greatest gift she gave to me.

Some of my paintings sell very quickly. Others don’t. They are all my castles. Each has taught me something. All have led me to my current palette. The place that fills my soul, comforts my heart and stretches my creativity. The place I live. It’s a process. I’m not always this gentle with myself. I can be short. Discouraged. Impatient. But I’m learning. And when I remember this, I see her face, smiling beside me, and I feel gentled into the lesson at hand. Some last a lifetime.

What’s taught is what’s known.