Canvas of Incompletion

"To be able to create something, huh?" I mused, realizing that I had underestimated the depth of this seemingly straightforward statement. Perhaps my contemplation had fixated on its simplicity, causing me to overlook the intricate essence of creation - the way it takes shape, evolves, and unfurls. It's a journey from the quiet realms of contemplation, through the labyrinth of inspiration, to the artful assembly of fragments into a cohesive whole...

Somewhere along the way, I had become entangled in the idea of being a certain type of person, the type of person I believed “she” wanted me to be. A stubborn determination had taken root within me, a determination that hadn't emerged from thin air.

Hidden behind these sentences was a wellspring of emotions and experiences, a complex interplay that time would gradually unveil.

But my thoughts shifted back to my conversation with Colie. Her words had stirred a curiosity within me, an intrigue that demanded exploration. I found myself genuinely captivated by her wisdom, a pearl of wisdom she had unknowingly shared. With a sense of gratitude, I expressed, "Hey, thanks. That's exactly what I was missing."

A smile graced her lips as she placed her hand on my head, offering a reassuring pat. "I know. My daughter used to tell me the same."

"Oh," I exclaimed, a touch surprised by the unexpected connection. Yet, her countenance betrayed a fleeting glimpse of inner turmoil, quickly concealed beneath a practiced facade. Colie turned the canvas she held, revealing the artwork she wanted me to see.

Her voice carried a hint of vulnerability as she asked, "This is the last painting my daughter created..."

"The last?" I inquired, curiosity piqued as I sensed a deeper story behind her words.

Colie shifted, her gaze averted as if seeking solace in the walls around us. Her words carried a weight of sorrow that resonated deeply. "Yes, the last one. She passed away three months ago in an accident."

Empathy surged within me, and I offered my condolences, though I knew mere words could not alleviate the pain.

Colie's resolve, however, remained unshaken. "But I refuse to be consumed by grief," she asserted, her voice steady and determined. "Which is why I have a request for you."

"A request?" I queried, intrigued by the unexpected turn our conversation was taking. My eyes briefly flickered to Feso, who had nestled herself on the floor, already lost in slumber.

A dialogue unfurled within the confines of Colie's home, an exchange I hadn't foreseen but was drawn into willingly. It was a conversation that held promises of unveiling more pieces of the puzzle, of guiding me further on the path to becoming the type of being I sought to be.

As Colie prepared to share her request, her lips curved into a different sentence, one that held an air of mystery and anticipation. "Before I reveal it, why not take a closer look at the painting and share your insights?"

With Colie's request hanging in the air, I leaned closer to the canvas, allowing its intricate details to draw me in. The colors seemed to speak a silent language, conveying emotions and stories that were both familiar and foreign. As my gaze lingered on the brushstrokes, I felt a connection to her daughter's creative spirit, a connection that transcended the confines of time and space.

At that moment, a profound realization washed over me like a gentle tide. The vibrant colors that adorned the canvas, each brushstroke meticulously placed, whispered a story that was both vivid and incomplete.

In that quiet revelation, I began to perceive what had eluded me—a masterpiece suspended between realms, a creation not fully realized. I mused to myself, an almost involuntary realization escaping my lips, "It's as if it yearns for more, a final stroke to bring its tale to fruition."

The words hung in the air, a quiet confession to the canvas before me. It was an acknowledgment, a recognition of the potential that lay dormant within the artwork. As the notion crystallized in my mind, a whisper of promise echoed through the corridors of my thoughts, "It still has areas of improvement, a tale longing to be told."

Beside me, Colie, her presence a comforting anchor, nodded in agreement. Her voice, a gentle echo of memory and sentiment, intertwined with mine. "Indeed," she affirmed, her tone carrying the weight of nostalgia, "Just before the accident, my daughter was pouring her heart into this very canvas."

In that tender admission, the tapestry of her daughter's devotion and aspirations came into sharper focus. The painting became a vessel, holding within its strokes a connection that transcended time. It was a piece of her daughter's soul, a fragment of a dream left tantalizingly incomplete.

Colie's next words, a request that danced on the precipice of hope and longing, cascaded over me. "That's why I want you to finish this piece of art," she entreated, her gaze holding mine with unwavering sincerity.

It felt like a great opportunity to learn more about art through another artist's work. But I couldn't help wondering, how could I finish this? This painting was entirely her daughter's creation, and she must have had her ideas about it. How could I understand what she had in mind?

As I considered the challenge ahead, a mix of feelings swirled within me – excitement, uncertainty, and the desire to do justice to the piece. The painting seemed like it was waiting for someone to bring out its full potential, to complete the story it was trying to tell.

I turned my attention back to the canvas, looking at the colors and strokes more closely. It was like a puzzle that was missing a few pieces, and I was being asked to fill them in. The painting held a connection to Colie's daughter, a connection that I wanted to honor.

I faced Colie, a determination in my eyes. "I'll try my best to bring out the best in this artwork," I assured her. It was a promise to take on the challenge and give it my all, to finish what her daughter had started and create something meaningful.

However, a touch of concern mixed with surprise painted her expression. "Are you sure? I mean, this won't be a bother for you? I blurted it all out in a hurry, assuming you have a deep connection with creation."

I could see a range of emotions crossing her face, each one telling a different story. Yet, I responded with a reassuring smile, appreciating the insight she had given me. "Colie, I don't mind at all. This is something I've been yearning for, and I'm determined to see it through."

Her demeanor underwent another shift, a transition that I could understand all too well. I had experienced similar shifts within myself when alone, grappling with my thoughts. A wave of relief washed over her, and she suggested, "Well then, how about we have dinner and a drink here?"

She gestured towards the clock, its hands indicating a time past ten, edging closer to the depths of the night. It seemed like a sensible idea, and I nodded in agreement. With that, we made ourselves comfortable at a table that was conveniently placed between the sofas. The aroma of the food she had prepared in just half an hour enveloped us, a testament to her culinary skills.

We indulged in the pleasures of food and engaged in the light of conversations. Colie shared stories about her daughter and how she used to be, painting a vivid picture of a vibrant personality. While I opted for simple juices, Colie seemed to find solace in the embrace of a few drinks, the effects of which became apparent as the night progressed.

Curiously, despite not being a drinker, I began to feel a peculiar drowsiness settle over me. The effects of the evening's events were catching up, and it was a sensation I hadn't quite anticipated.

As the night deepened and our stories intertwined, a sense of tranquility washed over us. Like Feso, who had found her spot and surrendered to slumber, we too surrendered ourselves to the embrace of the night at our own spot.