“I should get going too,” Corrie chimes in. “Lots to do.”
“I’m going to stick around for a bit,” I tell them. “See you all next week.”
Saturday mornings are my ‘me time’. Maeve, Corrie and Kayla don’t have children yet. But I have two. And I adore them to death. They are truly the best things that have ever happened to me. It’s just… it’s just that sometimes I need a little break. My Saturday morning journaling meetings and my painting are my escapes. I just need an extra ten minutes today to check my social media. And when I get home, I’m all theirs.
I check my Instagram, and smile when I have ten new likes and a new comment. My Instagram consists mostly of a few selfies, the occasional photo of a fabulous meal I’ve prepared, small excerpts from my journal, and my art. I don’t post too many photos of my kids and family. I don’t really like the idea of random people looking at pictures of my children. I suppose that’s the paranoid Helicopter Mom in me. Most of my followers are strangers. I don’t know why the heck I care if strangers like my photos, but I do, for some reason. Maybe I like the attention, maybe I need the excitement, and maybe I’m lonely. I don’t know.
In just a few seconds, my actions are about to change my life, and set off a chain of dominoes. Just a few taps of my finger are about to turn my world upside down, shake it to its core, bulldoze right through my white picket fence. I just don’t know it yet.
Oblivious, I tap away...
Chapter Two
I BROWSE THROUGH MY FEED and pause when I see one of her beautiful images. Her artwork is inspirational. I can’t count how many times I’ve liked and taken screen shots of her art. I’ve become kind of a stalker, actually. I’m sure she doesn’t mind. I’m sure lots of people are doing the same thing. It’s not so much skill that I see in her art, but vibrancy, passion, that ‘something’ that I’ve been trying to achieve in my own paintings. Although we work in different mediums, she with watercolors, myself with oils, she is by far my favorite artist friend on Instagram.
I tap on the heart icon to check out my likes and comments, and I’m thrilled to see that she liked my most recent painting; an orchid set against a window. She even left a comment:Beautiful!,followed by a heart emoticon.
I instantly like her comment, giddy. I reach for my mug and drain the rest of my coffee, which is very cold now… yuck. I go back to browsing my feed, and a new message pops up — it’s her. @eKellyart
Thank you for all the likes. It’s appreciated. :)
I reply instantly...
No problem. You are amazing! I’ve been stalking you for a while! Lol! Thanks for liking my recent painting.
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It’s gorgeous! How long have you been painting?
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A while. Since my twenties… college. I studied Marketing and Business, but took a few art classes. How about you?
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Pretty much all my life. I’ve painted since I was a child. My mother was an artist.
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It shows! You’re amazing! Sorry, I think I’ve already said that! Lol!
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It’s okay. I’m flattered. :) It was nice chatting. Until next time. :)
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Bye :)
As soon as our conversation is over, I check her profile. I want to know more about her. But my creeping initially leads pretty much nowhere. There are no photos of her, nothing but her paintings. Unlike mine, her account is truly an art-only account. The profile caption reads:
Artist, dog lover, dreamer, living in Copenhagen, Denmark.
Interesting… My eye is drawn to her name. Eli Kelly.
Wait a second…
Eli. Eli is a man’s name. @eKellyart is a man! I’d just always assumed she was a woman. Maybe ‘Kelly’ threw me off, or maybe it was the softness in her artwork. Uh… I mean,hisartwork.
