lost little portraits and words in a notebook

 I found these little portraits tucked away inside an old sketchbook. It's funny how when you come back to forgotten things you've made, or drawn, or written you either love them far more than when you created them or you feel a bit squirmy about them, a bit embarrassed.


 Well, I love these. I don't think I thought much of them at the time I drew them but now I'm pleased with them. 


 I found one of my old notebooks also. Thirteen years ago I wrote in this book and whew, the stuff that was going on in my head... I was so fired up, creative, so full of thoughts and words all coming tumbling a million miles an hour onto the page. 

 I'd written a list of things I loved, some of it is suitable to share, some of it... squirm. 


the edited segment...
fire, oranges, lying on my mother's bed with her at night, my books, talking, riding, the sea, crying, car rides at night, mirrors, dancing when I don't care, New York, the night sky, good dreams, writing, drunk, Wales, whales, hugging my Nan


 Not much has changed, except I don't get the chance to lie on my mother's bed with her at night any longer. Now my daughter lies on mine. It's a full circle kinda thing.


 And I still get to hug my Nan. So thankful for that.


 Add to that I no longer ride. But I can still recall the high I got from galloping the mountains alone on horseback. Honestly, a seriously sublime feeling, totally in the moment, totally at one with the world. 


 Dancing when I don't care? Done at home, not in a dingy club at 2am.


 Oh, and mirrors, since we moved we have no decent mirrors. Just the one on the bathroom cabinet that you have to stand in the bath to use. And one propped up against the bedroom wall that I can see my feet in. Maybe I need to fall in love with mirrors again. Not because I'm vain, but because I like to see myself everyone once in a while, to say hello. 


 So my little lost portraits, I hope you like them. I'm going to make some prints and frame them up. I'm going to be proud of them and let them loose into the world. But not the notebook, oh no, that's being closed and tucked away again, full of secrets that make me squirm.