And there isn’t any anger reflected in her eyes. Not like I expected. No sadness. No pain. Nothing
but genuine… happiness. Though I don’t understand how that can be.
“Honestly,” she tells me, “I know it sounds hard to believe, but that day changed my life. For the
better. I used to work eighty hours a week trying to climb the corporate ladder. Now I run an art
program for children. And I appreciate every single moment of every day. I’m the happiest I’ve ever
been.”
Another man steps up beside her, and I’m certain that he’s going to be the one. The one who lashes
out at me. Who tells me how it really is. Who blames me for what happened as I blame myself.
But he doesn’t. He shares some similar words of how his life has changed. And how he’s learned
to live with those changes.
After twenty minutes, I’ve spoken to everyone in the group. And not one of them said the words I’d
been expecting.
I’m still trying to come to terms with that when Chloe and the yoga instructor take their places at
the front of the room and start rattling off instructions for everyone.
The room is a flurry of activity. Of life, where I was so certain that none could ever live.
I feel like a ghost here. An invisible spectator amongst the crowd. I don’t know what I’m doing
here. But I’m certain that I don’t belong.
I don’t have time to consider it further. Because Chloe is pulling me along, shoving another palate
into my hands and giving me instructions.
I follow the instructions as I watch them move. Holding various positions that would seem
impossible to most, but that they have conquered through sheer strength and will. Chloe remains
beside me, and there’s a brief question in my mind why she isn’t doing anything. But I listen to her
voice and use it as an anchor. Telling me when to add paint. Keeping my hand calm and steady with
her presence alone.
The time passes quickly, and soon the entire sequence is over. My eyes move over the paper along
with all of the others in the room as they evacuate the white space.
It’s perfect.
It’s brilliant.
It’s life, on canvas.
And then Chloe’s tapping me on the arm and handing me something else. A fresh palate.