June 2024 — Brantford, Ontario, Canada
Oil Painting
This wasn’t something I planned to paint.
It was just a small corner of the house.
A windowsill.
A teapot.
A few plants growing in different directions.
Afternoon light resting quietly on the wall.
Nothing special.
The kind of scene most people would walk past without noticing.
But I kept looking at it.
In March 2024, we moved from Taiwan to Canada.
Immigration sounds simple when you say it out loud.
But living through it is different.
There are papers, phone calls, waiting, and a quiet uncertainty that follows you every day.
You don’t always show it.
But it’s there.
During that time, Pat’s brother and sisters helped us more than I can explain.
Meals appeared.
Rides were offered.
Questions like, “Did you sleep well?” or “Are you hungry?”
Small things.
But they held us together.
Staying at his sister’s home, I started noticing how she cared for the space.
Plants near the light.
Fresh flowers in random containers.
Things placed gently, not for decoration, just for living.
The house didn’t feel staged.
It felt lived in.
And safe.
The kind of place where you can finally breathe out.
That afternoon, the light touched the teapot and the leaves in such a soft way.
I stood there for a long time.
Not taking a photo.
Just watching.
And I suddenly knew —
I wanted to paint this.
Painting is slow.
Much slower than photography.
You have to sit with the image.
Mix the colors.
Look again.
Adjust.
Wait.
Hour after hour.
While painting, I realized I wasn’t just painting plants or a teapot.
I was painting a feeling.
The feeling of being taken care of.
Of arriving in a new country and not feeling alone.
Of someone quietly nourishing you without asking for recognition.
This painting became a small gift for her.
A way to say thank you.
Not with big words.
Just with time.
Because sometimes time is the most honest form of gratitude.
When I look at it now, I still feel the same softness.
Care doesn’t always look dramatic.
Sometimes it’s just light on a windowsill.
Growing quietly.
Every day.