Yesterday, my husband was hard at work like I'd never seen him before. A few years ago, I bought him a painting easel to fuel his creativity, however it has rarely been used since. But yesterday, he sat on his wooden, swivel stool for hours, creating in silence. I wanted to look over his shoulder. I wanted to ask him how it was going. I wanted to know what he was painting. But I stopped myself short, understanding how those seemingly harmless actions can hinder someone who is "on a roll."
Late into the evening, he finally lifted the small, square canvas from the 3-legged easel and reluctantly handed it to me. "I painted this for you. You can name it," he said simply, unenthused, and waiting nervously for my reaction.
I immediately smiled with admiration at the array of blended colors and texture. It was a true piece of art. A star so full of beaming light, it couldn't be contained by just one snap shot. Even the largest telescope in the world couldn't capture its magnificent size, but Eddie captured all of its beauty. "It looks like a sunburst." I said. And that's what I named it.