Fantastic sounds even better in French.

After finishing their portrait, I wasn’t sure that I would ever see them again. They didn’t even know I had done it. I carried the knowledge in my pocket, and a picture on my phone, and walked each day hoping to see them on the path. One day passed. Then three. Then a week. Knowing good news doesn’t really spoil, (and I was going to walk anyway) I made my loop each morning and afternoon.

Then I saw it. A flash of his white hat just around the bend. I scrolled quickly through my phone. Had my photo at the ready. They smiled, already surprised that I had stopped them – “excusez-moi-ed” into their journey. I went quickly through the list I had run over in my head — artist, painting, portrait — and I showed them the photo. “Fantastique!” And let me sound it out for you — Fan-tas-TEEK! I play it over in my head daily. I told them I would give it to them. The younger of the two told me that they walk on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. The next Monday, I packed it up and went for my walk. I didn’t see them. I brought it back home. On Tuesday, I went empty handed in the afternoon and climbing the hill, an elderly woman pulled up slowly in her car. My first thought was, oh know, she’s going to want directions, and want them in French. Still, I took out my earpod as she rolled down her window. She asked if I was the artist. Relief turned into joy. Yes, I beamed. It was a fast jumble of her husband spoke about it all weekend and where was I Monday and they will be walking on Wednesday…and I couldn’t stop smiling. It never rains here, but of course Wednesday morning I woke up to clouds. Not to be deterred, I packed it in plastic, grabbed my umbrella, and hit the gravel. Protected by preparation, it never rained. I was nearing my turn around when I finally saw them. Coo-coo-ed them from behind and ran up to give them the portrait.

Do I miss the painting? Sure. A little. But the place it had in my heart has been completely filled by this random connection. And isn’t that the way with love, giving it away never leaves us empty, but fills us even more.

It’s like they think they’ll be safe or something, these people who never dare a connection, but what they are, is simply alone. It is a risk, for sure, to expose your heart, your gifts, but the greater risk, I think, is to not. A heart that doesn’t love, is simply an unplayed piano. Nothing fantastique about that.

“I can’t take the chance that you don’t know how much it means to me, you carrying my hopes like precious cargo, and traveling with me to dreams come true…so I will tell you again and again, as if it were the first time, “It is an honor, it is a privilege, it is a joy, to share with you the path.”