At first glance, this sketchbook probably doesn’t seem like a surprise. But when I tell you that I bought it in Iowa, suddenly it takes on a whole new meaning, and we’re all smiling.

And that’s the thing isn’t it? Context. I learned it pretty early on. But I have to keep learning it. I suppose we all do. 

It was something, the way my mother looked. Shopping with her, I could see the other women wondering what they were missing. It was the same Herberger’s. The same racks. How was she doing it? And didn’t they stand behind her in the same line for the Clinique promotion? But it was even more than all that. What they didn’t see, is for years she did it on no sleep. No money. Eating only Heath ice cream bars to keep the weight on, the weight that slipped with worry. As surprising as a French girl in Iowa. And just as beautiful.

And in watching her story change, evolve, get moisturized and dressed to the nines, it, she, taught me to look for all the stories. All the joyful surprises. To capture them in words and paintings, so everyone could see the beauty in what was far and near, and maybe most importantly, even in themselves. So if you want to give thanks for this, do it by taking a look, in every face, in every mirror. May you ever be joyfully surprised.