I’m in between at the moment. I recently finished a large painting, and the new panel is built. It waits patiently on the working easel. But I have to be ready. So I turn to my sketchbooks.

It’s good practice. They keep me active. Learning. And it’s never about perfection. But I do get to start and finish something pretty quickly. And that feels good. And I wouldn’t call it a victory, but setting myself up for one.

Maybe it’s because I recently had two setters from my high school volleyball team come for a visit. Every day at 3:15, we would change from our school clothes into our sweats. The energy that remained seated all day, from classroom to classroom was released, bouncing off the smooth hardwood floors. Mrs. Anderson blew her whistle and we sprinted, line by line. We called them crushers. And I suppose that’s what they were designed for – to crush out the demons of the day, the problems unsolved, the warnings of tests approaching, the teasing, the fatigue of numbers divided on blackboards and inside bathroom cliques. After shaking it all out, we lined up at the net. And it was Barbie and Cindy who began setting us up. On firm and gentle fingertips they passed the ball. We raced forward and swung with all of our might. And the ball went into the net. Again and again. But they, Barbie and Cindy, stood there, smiling us through the line, setting us up over and over, each seeming taller with every passing of the ball. Never rolling their eyes, or sighing with puffed out cheeks. They just kept giving us the chance, repeatedly, without judgement.

And that’s what my sketchbooks do — they Barbie and Cindy me through the ordinary days. The in betweens. The 3:15 release of all my creative energy. The letting gos. The trying news. Maybe I would have gotten here on my own, but I’m not sure. There have been so many that set me up through the years. Still. I write of them day by day. I stand a little taller. And because of them I feel a responsibility to do the same for myself. To give myself a chance. Every day. Who would I be if I just let it all slip by? Who would I be if I didn’t even try? You have to try! I see their faces, smiling, and I race toward the net.