After learning they had actual names other than grandma and grandpa, nothing really surprised me. And Hvezda, no less. Other than our family, no one could spell it or even say it properly. The H was silent. The most confusing part, I suppose, was that my last name also began with an H — Hills. My grandma had the best answer. When I asked her why her H didn’t have a sound and mine did she simply said, “I was saving it for you.”

It’s all those silent sacrifices of those that come before us. Those who lay the path so that we can travel a little easier. Are we still doing it? Holding the light so that others can shine? I hope so.

I mention it because I’m living in a country where they say neither H nor S, and half my name disappears. But when I paint the portraits of Charles and Margaux, I think, I guess I was saving it for you.