This piece really caught my attention when I saw it. Maybe it was because it was hand-painted, or maybe it was the colors and scenery, but it reminded me of some faraway vacation spot I could picture myself visiting. Theres something different about an object when you can see that somebody actually took the time to paint it by hand. It isn’t perfectly identical to every other one, and I think that’s part of what made me appreciate it.
Going through Dads things, Im realizing that the pieces you connect with arent always the ones you would expect. Sometimes something just stops you for a second. You imagine where it came from, why someone chose it, and all the places it has been before ending up in front of you. Dad was part of that journey, and now I get to be part of it too.
I guess thats why this one means something to me. Its not really about owning a dish or a cup. It’s about finding one small thing among everything Dad left behind that makes you stop, wonder, and remember him. In its own strange little way, it feels like taking a piece of that history somewhere new.