“No paintbrush in hand?”

Not this time. This time it’s a painting of who I see when I look at Dot Courson: I see my Mom. I see her eyes that look back at me-her daughter. 

Those eyes first looked at me 42 years ago and she made that face where she smiles and bites her tongue in a way that says she loves so much she can’t stand it. 

She’s always loved that much. So giving and so full of a belief in you so much that she’s lined you up with more than you need to succeed before you’ve even decided you were able. 

So I painted my Mom. 

My Mom. 

What an honor.