Letters Home painting #1

Dear Home,

I’ve had so many jobs and so many painful life experiences 
Sometimes I wish I could just come home
But there’s no more home it’s gone
I remember practicing cello with dad in the living room
Him analyzing and criticizing my practicing
And it was difficult but now I see he was just excited
I miss the fig trees and playing on them, the way they smelled 
Their textures, stepping on the sticky ones that had fallen to the ground 
Their goo all over our shoes
A miniature orchard
I will miss playing in the trees
Eleven of them at first 
Green and purple figs
Such a rare fruit to have
Then some stopped making fruit
The trees got sick
And we uprooted a few
Less to play on 
But I know now all the lessons 
And every person 
Every tree
Was all just an energy in Gods heart 
And dad is just a player in my soul
An energy field that I choose to help me see the loving in myself. 
And as I grieve I also set intentions to heal that past life.

I love you,

-Liz