Gemotions

The smooth glide of the brush across the canvas, the vibrant explosion of color – this was where Michael found his equilibrium. He had been creating a new landscape painting for the last several weeks. The smell of oil paint was intoxicating. Sunlight streamed into his studio, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He stepped back from the easel, assessing the latest layer with a slow blink. A soft sigh escaped his lips.

His son, eight-year-old Noah, bounded in, brandishing a crayon drawing. “Dad, look! I painted a mountain!” Michael smiled, his heart swelling with a gentle warmth.