Chapter 20

Posted: August 5, 2014 in Uncategorized

transformation definition

HASINA

I try to hide my ridiculous grin as I pull out of the parking lot of the art school. It had been so long since I was excited about my sketching that I had even forgotten that feeling of getting lost in a drawing. That excitement and anxiousness to draw the next thing or try the next technique used to be just a memory. I remember as a teenager, when my sketching would be all I thought about. I would feel so alive and my senses would be heightened just to see and touch and experience everything for the sole purpose of translating that experience into a drawing.

There was a point shortly after I got married, I became so involved in life that I thought that feeling was gone forever. It is part of the reason I stopped sketching. Yes… life happened, but it was more than that. That feeling had slowly slipped away.

Even as my mother bugged me about the sketches or when Yusuf would mention my drawings, I would spew out excuses to them too afraid to admit that maybe, just maybe – I would not be able to do it anymore , even if I tried. I had heard about famous authors that would write best sellers, and then stare for years at a keyboard unable to type a sentence. I thought that could happen to me, with my drawings.

I was wrong.

It is difficult to describe the feeling of getting lost in an act that causes you such pleasure. Maybe it was listening to Suhail speak during the family counseling at the Rehab Centre that make me think that I was wrong. Wrong about so many things. Maybe it was Farnaz who looked at my drawings and saw what my mother saw. Maybe it was that I was just ready to start being the Hasina that I was always meant to be.

I pondered this thought as I joined the highway on my drive back home. I glance to the back of the car. My large black portfolio bag sits obediently on the seat. How could I not have accepted the offer? I saw it as my mother’s last wish for me. But more than that, It is what I wanted for myself.

The conversation with Farnaz at the coffee shop sealed the deal. I have sat for hours thinking about what she said. There was something about her words, or way she paused between sentences or simply the things she said, that reminded me so much about my mother. Since I began the art lessons, I have wanted to tell her all about it. Maybe in some crazy way, I would be telling my mother. I laugh out loud in the car at that thought. She would probably think I am crazy.

portfolio bag

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