Have been doing nothing but picture framing this past week, dropping into sleep for a few hours between the fifteen-hour days on my feet. Found that despite the stress, depression, adult ADD, or whatever’s been causing the low production output for the past couple of years was easily overridden by the Christmas deadlines. That, plus blasting Willie, Waylon and Emmylou to keep me dancin’ and movin’ in the shop.
Just about done, just writing sales slips for pick-ups and damn; here comes in the young woman with her son for two hand-drawn color images of trains that her father drew for her kids. Her father died last month. Her tears start up my own; can’t help it.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology