I love art shows, but I’ve never exhibited in one. Since I visit local art galleries, I sometimes receive invitations to exhibit, and I received one of these invitations the other day. Art exhibitions always have a theme, a theme you are supposed to work into the art piece you submit. The one I received recently was titled Seasons of Reflection.
The word seasons made me think of seasons of the year, spring, summer, autumn and winter. I quickly related these to seasons of my life and thought, childhood, college, marriage, family and widowhood. Oops, that’s five seasons. At first I thought, laughingly, that maybe I should add hurricane season. We have that here in Florida, always the end of summer and the beginning of fall. I realized it actually fit my life. Children can be little hurricanes and illness almost always comes before widowhood, illness is a hurricane of sorts.
Then, I tried to think of outstanding memories of each of these seasons of my life. Although I grew up as an only child, I wouldn’t say I was lonely. I had many friends, I was always a reader, and I was interested in almost everything and everyone I encountered. If a friend tapdanced, I wanted to do that, too. If another friend played the piano, it was “Please, Mommy, can I have a piano?” And so on until I finally got over myself! But it did keep me busy. I was a good student mainly because I did not want to be embarrassed in class by not having done my homework. And my best friend was practically a genius! Competition was in my genes.
Preparing for college was a given, and when the day finally came, my expectations were enormous only to be deflated quickly. My genius friend who had skipped 12th grade was like a stranger when I finally arrived. She had moved on…my first disappointment. Classes were very different from high school. Nobody cared (especially the prof) whether I did my assignment or not. The classes were huge, and I was one tiny blip in the audience. Listen, don’t listen, turn your assignments in…or not…up to you. My motivation had disappeared and my good grades along with it. But Friday night dances were the bomb and late night trips to the student center for chocolate fudge sundaes kept me happy as a cat in a dairy barn.
I got the shock of my life when my first transcript arrived. It had a D on it in Physical Science, obviously something I needed to study. So I changed my ways and got down to business, but it took me an entire semester to realize I couldn’t skim by on my looks…just kidding. And the season of summer quickly transitioned into autumn, marriage and children.
Autumn starts out hot but eventually cools down. That’s how marriage usually goes. Everything is bright and new to begin with, lots to learn, lots of new experiences with the bright blooms of summer making everything colorful and glorious. But blooms must turn to seed to ensure the next generation, and seeds need care and attention, and the new season has a life of its own. New seeds bloom and the dried petals of the old flowers float along to a new resting place, and eventually their purpose is spent. Along comes winter.
Some plants are annuals, and that’s the way with humans. One year of seasons is all we get, and although each of us is an annual, seeds have guaranteed our longevity, millions of years already.
Four very different seasons for reflection but all tied together by unique human beings. Each season could be many different paintings.
And so, I have an idea for a painting, an empty flowerpot, a seedling, a full bloom, a spent bloom, a year’s worth of a seasons of reflection.
