I am not talented in any significant way.
I couldn’t draw portraits for years and years and grow in that field the way some people can.
Raw, unformed talent comes to me in waves. Starting in blood and bubbling up to the surface until I release the strange beast.
Ideas strike me in the midst of everyday life. A quiet euphoria grips me I translate the scene in my mind to paint or words.
I cannot control this variable ratio. I just wait until I am struck again by the abnormal lightning.
A vision of my grandmother sitting in a fold up chair in the sun. She watches my little cousins dry themselves after swimming in the backyard pool.
Chlorine puddling in great oceans at their feet. There’s love shining in her expression and every wrinkled line of her body.
She sits slumped over in the chair, her back curved with age and her legs propped up after great difficulty.
A fervor gripped me then. A spirit took me then.
Demanded I capture the image.
I finally sketched it out hours later that day. My usually spotty memory could recall every detail.
My hand crafted the lines and teased the curves of her smiling face.
Any other day at any other hour, my pencil was too fast or too dull.
I cannot explain how this occurs.
Something strange builds up in my throat as a wave of great emotion crashes over me.
The words of a lovely song comes to me unbidden and demands my mouth open.
I comply, trying to do justice the pure notes.
Moments like these, I cherish. The only moments I feel like my voice could be great.
But then it fades and I am left stumbling in the dark as I wait for it to come back.
Like a blind man regaining his sight for only a few minutes.
I wish I could control my abnormal lightning.
Maybe one day I will learn.
Or maybe one day the right person will be listening and watching, and something might actually occur in my 9 to 5 life.
But for now, I just wait.