Misha's Tulips

Misha’s Tulips

When my son was just a little boy  barely two years old  we used to paint together.
At home we had a large table, always covered with plastic, ready for our little adventures with colors.
I would give him a big sheet of paper, a thick brush, and bright gouache paints.

I wanted him to feel free  to touch, to smear, to explore the joy of color and the movement of the brush.
I never told him what to paint or how a flower or a house should look.
He simply painted… and it was beautiful.

When he was five, we painted a bouquet of tulips together.
And honestly, I loved his painting more than mine.

Two years later, when my father became very ill and I was searching for something to weave — something to quiet my heart  I chose Misha’s tulips.
That tender, joyful painting became the source of comfort in my hands and heart.

Even now, I think I still love his tulips more than my weaving.