I had a dream last night.

A man got separated from his little boy when he got into a vehicle. The man got out, went around to the back, and opened the tailgate. 

"Get in!" I shouted from the driver's seat. "Your can't ride back there. Get in up front."

He couldn't make up his mind. Finally he got in the back seat, looking like a little boy, pouting, impish, daring. I dropped him off.

Then I found the little boy still waiting on the stoop. When the child found out his dad was gone, he sobbed inconsolably.

 I'd started them both this past summer. Above (Rise) was painted two weeks ago, below (Sunrise on a Beautiful New Day) 6 hours before the dream.

Both have languished in my studio through the fall and into the holidays. After writing the story about my granddaughter, something inside I'd been holding back cut loose. Painting these brought me to tears as I felt my own little girl step in to hold my brush hand. I'd stopped wishing for her, or so I throught!

The dream helps me find compassion for my son. I pray he reunites with the little boy who knew he was loved.

Many Blessings,