Years ago I began painting. I know nothing about it and have never shared my pieces. My front porch had them all over and my kids liked them so that was alway enough. Tonight as I was working out my knee on the stationary bike I looked over at one of my first paintings . This was done at night after my youngest went to sleep and I was thinking about a patient who was very ill. I suddenly felt like she might be passing so I turned on music and painted while I talked to her. When I was close to done I felt a sigh. So I stopped. The next morning when I went to work I found out she had died just about the time I finished. It sits in my hallway and I remember her fondly. Sometimes life gives you mysteries. Mine sits on my pantry.