I’ve never readily embraced change. Admittedly, some changes are more difficult than others.

As a teacher, autumn meant gearing up for a new school year. No matter how long I taught, each year I approached the first day of school with anxiety and a touch of panic. And yet, by the time the first day was half over, I wondered what all the fuss was about.

When my husband fell ill, the thought of losing him filled me with sheer terror. We soldiered on, always hopeful and together, but when he left, I stood at the edge of an abyss the likes of which I hadn’t envisioned. The winds of change engulfed me in a whirlwind of fear, despair, and longing.

Somehow, I endured to find myself on a windswept plateau, significantly changed and mostly at peace. I can feel gratitude for what we had together, honor his life, and rediscover what life now holds for me.
While navigating the darkness of acute grief, I never expected to find myself in such a light-filled place. It took time, many wrong turns, and perseverance, but here I am.

I created this piece almost two years ago when I felt on the cusp of positive change. As I walked, an oak leaf fell in my path, and I carried it home with me. It became the focal point for this little canvas. The cranes, representing flight and growth, are cut from beautiful Japanese paper. I saw myself as the solitary crane below, hopefully venturing out on my own in the unfamiliar new world in which I had found myself.