The Artist’s Argument

The mother inspected the painted canvas in front of her, looked out the window just beyond. Sighed, and put down her brush on the stool beside her.

She stood and went to the sink, washing the paint away. The times, in the waters pouring past. She reached for the tap and turned it off, just as her daughter entered the room and saw her still unfinished painting.

“Mom,” her daughter intoned, “You haven’t done anything.”

The mother gripped the edge of the sink.

“Lindsey. I told you. It takes time.”

“Cooking dinner takes time mother. Time takes time. I’m sorry, but your just sitting there.”

The mother put a hand to her head, looked at her daughter, and dropped her hand back down.

“I try every day, young lady.”

“Every day. You do nothing,” the daughter insisted.

“Well…then why don’t you do something!”

“I am, mom. I’m socializing”

“Ahh, and to think we’ve been holding this together.”

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