“Do you remember when we painted bright colors; flashes of crimson and cerulean upon the bare canvas?”
Filbert, a flat brush with a fine chiseled edge, slumped in the jar, waiting for a response.
Mop Brush puffed out her chest and said “today’s the day, you know.”
Filbert and Deerfoot Stippler, a highly useful companion if you want to add texture to life, leaned toward Mop Brush and, in unison, they crooned “what happens today?”
“Today, I’m leaving the jar!” Mop Brush beamed.
Deerfoot took two brush strokes backward, and Filbert gasped a few words; “Where will you go?”
“You can’t stay in the jar forever. Not if you want to ‘do’ anything new. You can only dance beautiful colors across the canvas again if you leave your container. I don’t know where I’ll end up, but I must be brave or live here, never doing anything meaningful.”
“Aren’t you scared? I mean, you should worry whether you’ll make it across the table and out through the window,” said Filbert.
“If I make a mistake and fall,” piped Mop Brush “I’ll dust myself off and begin again. After all, I know what not to do next time. Mistakes are like that. They teach you what to avoid.”
“And when you get out,” trumpeted Deerfoot, “there’s so much you can do! You can streak the sky with vibrant Phthalo Turquoise, Viridian and Quinacridone Magenta! You can live again my friend.”
Copyright © 2019 Bridget Webber. All rights reserved