Saturday, February 2nd, 2019
It’s the day after Christmas and already- to me at least- the wreaths and tree have a taken on a slightly melancholy air. I am taking out my umpteenth bag of garbage to the garage in the chilled night air, grateful it is full of the scraps from a bustling, family-fed holiday but somehow feeling very solitary in my unnoticed task. The sensor light pops on, as if expecting me, illuminating a lone unexpected package. After so many have been ordered, delivered and opened it ruffles me a little: what has been delayed or forgotten? It’s addressed to me, and the return label is from Karina Gentinetta, an artist I greatly admire but have only met in person a handful of times in my life. But Karina is someone you feel you know without knowing. There is a special weight to the package that dares me to not want to expect something and yet, can’t help but wish for it. It’s the first time I’ve been by myself in the house for a week and I am grateful for the solitude as I open it. The simple brown paper wrapping belies the framed color behind it. I hurry around the house clutching it, looking for the right spot yet I already know that it’s going by my bedroom bureau, a place only I visit day after day. I hang it without measuring. Its flecks of raspberry reds seem to dance next to my pink velvet curtain like old friends. Her note simply says “I am thinking of you.” There’s been no special occasion in my life lately good or bad, so how could she know? How could she know how much I needed this color in my room. Tonight.