I donated this painting to the nursing home 7 years ago. it used to hang in my kitchen behind my stained hardwood kitchen table. It matched the color of the tree trunks and rocks. It was a beautiful painting and i loved it dearly, but when i moved to the tiny house it became abundantly apparent that the prefab very thin glued particle painted walls bought in sheets at the hardware store to line the interior of my remodeled shed tiny house would not withstand the addition of nails or screws very well as i found myself patching splits in the wall where i had tried with plaster and sensodyne toothpaste. I realized i couldn’t hang anything, especially not something heavy, and i left some paintings with a family member, but they were only willing to take a few. I had to let the rest go. This was the only one that cut deep to let go of. The others i would miss, but not like this one. The art, the lighting, the subject matter, was a whole mood. It was beautiful, and i would miss it. Well, years later when i returned to healthcare and started working at this building again i found this painting on the wall in room 101. I was so thrilled! Whenever a patient moved out i’d go stand in there and stare at the painting until i’d gotten my fill of it, knowing another patient would soon move in. I made sure to steal a glance every time i went to pick up a patient for therapy from room 101. Sometimes they’d take it off the wall when a patient stayed in there and put up a different painting instead. Once a blue flower painting. Once a motivational patchwork of squares with the hodgepodge letters to spell “yes you can”. Each time they put the painting in the office on the floor, leaned against the wall. Once the patient moved out they’d have maintenance hang it on the wall again. I wondered if people found the winter scene depressing. Maybe they were requesting it removed from the room and replaced with a more cheery or upbeat image.
One day i walked in and it was gone from the wall. I checked the office floor and it wasnt there either. I figured it would turn up but it did not. I asked the receptionist in the office if she had seen it or knew where it went. She had not. She asked what it looked like and told me she would keep an eye out for it. She said, “if you ever find it you ought to just take it home. Nobody cares for it here like you do and if you love it so much you ought to just take it home.” But i couldn’t, and i told her so. I had tried to donate it for the nursing home but the employee who arranged the exchange insisted on paying me for the paintings so i sold it to her for a quarter, and for seven years the painting had belonged to the nursing home. It wasnt mine to take anymore. For a period of 5 months i did not see the painting and i had to make peace with the fact that the owner had probably taken it down and either tossed it or taken it home. I lamented the fact that i’d never again see the lavender shadows in the snow beneath that vibrant peach sky reflected in the river it hovered above. I did so love that painting. I could stare at it for hours, and the regal frame did the work of art no injustice at all. It was perfect. Every day i passed by the room it had been in i looked, hoping to see that it had been magically restored to its former position. Every day i was disappointed. Then one day i was assigned a new patient in room 109. He was a reverend. He was known to be a very kind and patient man so i was looking forward to getting our session started when i went to introduce myself and a little voice in my head said, “look up”. I lifted my head to face the reverend and there on the wall behind him, in all its brilliant glory, was my painting. The one that had hung in my kitchen for all those years, the one i had cherished, the one i had donated 7 years ago, the one that had been missing for 5 months. They had moved it to room 109. I was so relieved and overjoyed to see it again my eyes began welling with tears. The reverend was notably confused so i began to tell him the story of the painting. I told him i’d been looking forward it for five months. He said, “and now you’ve found it,” his eyes beaming with happiness. He said, “well you can come to my room any time you want to look at it and you can bring anyone else you want to show it to. My door is always open, any time you want to see the painting.” He wore a contented expression as if he knew the painting was supposed to be there and he was supposed to be there in that moment. I figured God had probably spoken to him the way the holy spirit had spoken to me and told me to look up. He was a man of his word and he allowed me to come to the room many more times to visit the painting and show the receptionist. I had worried the painting was in danger and id never get to witness its beauty again and now it sat guarded in the room of the reverend where it would be safe against request of its removal. It was the best place it could have ended up and i was glad to see it however many more times i was afforded to witness it again.