Day 20 - a hobby of yours and how it changed since your loss.

Day 20 - a hobby of yours and how it changed since your loss.

Geesh, this thirty days of posting is actually quite hard and time consuming and this question in particular could take an entire blog in and of itself. Oh, wait. It did.

My relationship with art has been the most amazing change since Lucy's death. From a very young age, I loved art. My sister found her things very early on in our lives, which was classical ballet and dance, softball and other things, like tap and jazz hands, and whatever else it is she did that involved wearing sequins and listening to show tunes on endless repeat. I went through the ringer finding a hobby. My mother sent me to tap and ballet, and I liked it fine, I guess. But every time I did a plié, you know knee bend, which they actually do quite a lot in ballet, my knees would crack. At first, it echoed and everyone looked at me. And then it kept happening, all the time, echoing around this little studio. And the mean ballet teacher said, "Maybe I should turn up the music, Kenna." The only reason my mother got me into ballet to begin with was by telling me football players take ballet to work on grace in running the ball. I realize now that was bullshit, but at the time, I could only imagine Refrigerator Perry in a tutu.  It wasn't really my thing. I went to gymnastics around this time too. I actually broke my rib the first class and took that to mean I should not perhaps be a gymnast. Ironically, I went back to Parkettes a few years later, and took to it like a fish to water, but before that point, I felt like I was unaffiliated. So my mother sent me to art school at the local art museum. And that was my passion. At least, for a few years, until I found gymnastics again.

My parents were extracurricular activity pushers, so I did gymnastics, softball, basketball, football...you know, lots. Art school was my favorite, but a little too expensive to keep up with, so I only did two years. I always loved painting and sketching and continued to work on my own through my life. I went to film school first, then dropped out of college for seven years, then majored in religion. Anyway, all that being said, rediscovering art after Lucy died changed my life. It was the first moment of peace I felt. I have written about it a ton here and there. Suffice to say, everything changed after Lucy died, art was her gift to me. And one I can never repay.