May 24, 2002
As she handed me a Monet mug of tea, she hitched up her bra strap, placing it where it belongs, that familiar groove of the shoulder. Easing into a chair opposite me, she smiled and blew steam off her Degas mug. Do you like art, she asked. Nodding, I commented on her Georgia O’Keefe refrigerator magnets and Van Gogh placemats. Lovely decorations, she said, they make me feel like I’m in a museum here at home. I smiled. I hear you paint, Mrs. Lund. Yes, yes, I paint cats. Sell them at the church bazaars for the Sunday school books.