I want to start over, more or less, with my artwork, and I'm excited for the prospect.
MollyWe don't talk about Molly anymore, or when she died.Molly by PaintedInWords
Daddy won't bring himself to look at her pictures. Mama keeps them turned around so Daddy doesn't get mad, but I like to flip them back and look at my sister when she was alive and healthy. When Daddy’s out keeping us safe, I sometimes talk to her smiling face and pretend to brush back the hair that always got in her bright blue eyes.
Molly didn't like people touching her, except me. Maybe because we shared the same face that Molly felt comfortable enough to share a touch with me. Mostly, though, she worried about germs and let no one lay a hand on her unless forced. Mama tried to cut her hair once, but Molly got scared. She cried and cried, until I sat down in the chair with her while our mama clipped our bangs and ran her fingers through our hair. I tried my best to show Molly there was nothing wrong with Mama's touch.
Germs, Molly had said once after reading a story in Mama's magazines, live on the surface of our skin, where