At the art store


Someday I'll graduate past being the crazy lady in the art store with the screaming toddler, trying to push the double stroller down way too narrow aisles because she had to find herself some vine charcoal and artists ink, and what do you do besides just make your life happen, right? In all it's messy, loud, colorful glory because if we stop moving and dreaming and trying to reach for the things we love then what is left? The kids will cry either way. But the charcoal might just save my soul.