Hues and Cues

“Good morning, Love! I’m working early today. Please prepare breakfast for yourself. Love you!” She kissed her husband on the cheek and he responded with a smile and eyes half open.

After her morning rituals, she prepared her husband’s mind. He is very supportive of what she does.

“Thank God for you,” she whispered on his ears.

She woke up feeling energized and ecstatic to work on a Sunday. One by one, she took out her things.

Canvas? Check!

Brushes of different sizes? Check!

Color palette? Check!

Pencils, and lots of papers? Check!

And of course, her hues! Oh, how lovely are they to look at!

She stood in front of her work station and marveled at what she saw. She’d love to do this every single day. It would be like she’s never worked a day in her life!

She sat and looked at her family’s photographs hung on the teal walls adjacent to her chair. They are her inspiration in all these. She works because of them.

“Thank God for family,” she thought.

She continued walking around the corners of her 16-square meter work-from-home office and put her fingertips on her framed artworks, admiring them as she slowly paced. Different colors, shades, angles and styles – they all come at the spur of the moment, after hours and hours of quiet time inside her playground.

She then took her graphite Staedtler pencil and started sketching. She didn’t know what to paint yet, but she’s excited of what it’s going to be at the end of the day. She’s only been working for roughly eight minutes when her husband knocked on the door with a cup of coffee. Ahhhh life.

“Thank God for this life,” she uttered.

Several hours flew and she looked around. Crumpled papers were everywhere. None of them seemed to satisfy her taste or mood for the day. She wanted to let out something she couldn’t barely reconcile in her mind. She needed a breather. So, she went to the kitchen and grabbed an apple. Then, she played with her toddler for a good 20 minutes before giving her back to her nanny.

Her husband is now in the field, working as a food delivery guy. He thought about him for a bit, anxious and pained that he’s now suffering under the scorching heat of the afternoon sun, while she drew inside her airconditioned space.

A ring on her phone drained her thoughts.

“Yes, Sis?” It’s her younger sister.

“Sis, I need money for school. We need to pay a bunch of by-standers for our thesis. We need to interview them and in exchange, give them meal allowance.”

She took a deep breath and said “Alright. I will transfer money first thing in the morning on payday. How much do you need?”

When the call ended, she let go of her paper and pen and grabbed her brushes. As her hair was tucked tightly behind her ears and her lips were pursed, her hands worked their way directly unto the canvas. She didn’t even notice her husband coming home and the sun setting.

A few more hours passed and she’s now holding another masterpiece. She loves the thrill of having her hands and apron splattered with colors. It feels like screaming at the top of her lungs at the highest peak of a mountain, letting out all the stresses, worries and fears in the world. Painting is exhilarating. It’s her sugar rush.

She now stared at her finished work. Its background was filled with different colors in abstract shapes. Its vibrancy complemented the black and gray centerpiece – a woman in her early thirties sitting in her office in front of her computer, faceless. On her mind inside a big thought bubble was her 8AM-to-5PM job, and her role as a mother, a wife, a daughter, and a sister.

When she’s done admiring her work, she put it inside the cupboard, along with all the other masterpieces she’s created every single Sunday. She teared up, but her heart is full. She looked at her family’s photographs once again and she smiled. Tomorrow is another Monday, the first day of the week to work as an accountant – not her dream job, but one that pays and brings food to her family’s table.

“Thank God for Sabbath day, and thank God for my job,” she said while locking the door of her work station she’d only see again next Sunday.