On my treatment days, I usually don’t do a whole lot. But I signed myself up for an evening, community figure-drawing class. Last night was the first night, and since I can’t drive a car for a day, my sister dropped me off at the class.
I haven’t drawn much, if at all, in the last few years, so I wondered if I even remembered to draw. But as soon as the model began to hold his pose in front of us, my hand holding a piece of charcoal moved vigorously, as if I was recalling the how-to of figure drawing with each stroke. The two hours went by so fast.
As I look at my scribbles from the class, I can see I need some practice to get back to where I once was. But I’m excited to see that improvement as weeks pass.