I told myself it was because of the stripes — that’s why it would be too hard to do this portrait of my mother. My heart tapped my brain each time I was looking for a new project. But I wasn’t ready. And it had nothing to do with the endless blue lines. Of course they would be a challenge, but the real reason, I just wasn’t prepared to spend that much time in this dance. In this joy. 

Sometimes even joy can be too much for a weary heart to lift. But the thing about joy —love, I suppose — is its patience. It sat waiting for me. Music cued up. Hand on the lights. Runway set. Whenever you’re ready, it said. 

And one day, “can’t” dares to take a tiny twirl, dropping off the apostrophe, letting go the t, and suddenly you’re stepping into the “can.” And once you reach “can,” the music begins to play, the lights shine, and you’re dancing in the “are.” 

It was something spectacular to see my mother’s confidence grow. It was my first real job after college. I was in charge of the style show. Of course I leaned on the most stylish person I knew. She picked out the dress she wanted to wear — the ‘ol show stopper – the one with the twirl. I wasn’t surprised. Those in the style show were offered a discount on the clothing. She didn’t have the money at the time to purchase it, but don’t think for one second she didn’t own that dress!  

My heart heaves still with a beaming of pride. I had witnessed her dance in the kitchen. Even at the Lakeside Ballroom in Glenwood. But here she was, in front of strangers, never feeling more herself, in the glow of the runway. I never saw her in the same light after that. For me, she’s still glowing.

I won’t say that there weren’t a few tears of tenderness, as I painted each blue stripe of her dress. But pain, had somehow found its way to love. Love, that ‘ol show stopper,” once again twirled its way into my heart.

I’ve heard it said before that love can build a bridge. I smile and think, sometimes a runway.