Fuzzy Memories

I’ve been cleaning out my spaces lately, making room for changes. Somewhere in the middle of it all, I found an old box of photos. One picture stopped me in my tracks—it was fuzzy, faded, and taken more than 30 years ago at a birthday party.

Growing up with two older brothers who shared the same birthday week meant I never had a cake to myself. There were always three candles on top, one for each of us. Back then, my brothers were my favorite people in the world. I only saw them every other weekend when my dad would pick me up, and I had no idea they were shielding me from the chaos of their everyday home.

For me, visits with them felt like freedom and pure joy. We’d wrestle WWE-style on old mattresses, play army in the backyard, throw rocks as “bullets,” and even turn my unwanted Barbie dolls into BB gun targets. Looking back, it was wild and reckless for a 5-year-old girl—but it was also where I learned grit, courage, and how to carry myself through life.

I lost my oldest brother to suicide when I was 18, and my middle brother to cancer three years ago. Now, all that remains are these fuzzy photographs in a box in the garage. They are fragments, but they hold some of the best memories of my life—and I will cherish them always.

This latest painting, Fuzzy Memories, was born from the emotions those photos stirred up. If you, too, are holding on to a memory you don’t want to fade, may this piece speak to you the way it spoke through me.