06/03/2026
Two years ago I went on a day trip with my husband to Durant, OK. He had some business there and said I could drop him off and go exploring for the day. I don't need a second invite to do that!
I investigated several downtown antique stores and flea markets, but the one that captivated me the most was run by an older couple (my age, I guess). The husband was surrounded by antique clocks in the back of the store and was working away on the restoration of one.
The walls in the whole store were lined with paintings. I appreciated them, but didn't feel an impulse to purchase one until I was on my way to the register.
My eyes landed on a really lovely, bright, floral oil painting that was obviously an original by a fairly talented amateur.
Sometimes when I'm shopping, my eyes play tricks on me and I don't see one of the digits on the price tag. I feel like a deflated Bozo the Clown punching bag when I get to the register and the proprietor points out the REAL price, sometimes even after the item has been rung up. It's so embarrassing to have to backpedal, but sometimes the pocketbook demands it. Poverty trumps pride, I reckon.
On this day, my eyes played that trick. When I discovered the actual price, I asked the clerk if there was a happier price possible. She said no.
But, she went on to explain that her 91-year-old mother had painted most of the pictures that lined the walls around us, including the painted bouquet I held in my hands.
She said that her mother was still alive and not only was she alive , but she was kicking and kicking quite vigorously. It was probably 98 degrees that day and she told me her mother was at the park with her friends having a picnic or some such thing. I can't exactly remember, but I do remember being amazed that she was participating in such an event in the middle of a sweltering, summer afternoon in Southeastern Oklahoma. I think my shirt was probaby soaked through just standing there in the store thinking about it.
The painter's daughter went on to tell me about her mother's stubborn love of life and how she pushes the boundaries of age every day.
I plopped down the extra digit in the price and carried my prize out the door. I have not been the same woman since that day.
The flowers that hang in my foyer are a daily reminder that I want to be the unstoppable, old lady who paints, and creates, and sings and loves and does all kinds of crazy shiitake until I can't.
That's the day that the old adage, "Just keep putting one foot in front of the other" became my fresh mantra.
So, there it is. The story I've been wanting to tell for awhile, and haven't. It took finding the old, daisy picture that I put in my booth today in the hopes that it might inspire someone else to keep dreaming and living and dancing one day and one step at a time.
