This story isn’t written by me. It was written by my 13-year-old granddaughter, Mya, with the help of her sister, Charlotte. I need not say any more. Mya does a great job of explaining both the image and the circumstance.
Ed Hill, Artist
ISOLATION
It was in the spring of 2020 and Charlotte and I were walking down the stretch of road that ran between the Pacific Ocean and a lagoon full of birds. The sun was shining and the light sparkled on the surface of the water. Gramma and Grampa Willing had chosen this beautiful day to go on a walk with the four of us.
This wasn’t any ordinary stroll, though. Our family was spaced 6 feet apart from them, and we also had to distance ourselves from any other people who happened to walk down the blocked off road. It was a day in the era of COVID, when masks were, in some cases, the most important thing you could wear, and awkward moments occured as you tried to back away from anyone who got too close to you.
Sometimes we would stray from the road to follow a narrow trail that ran along the lagoon. There were always birds in the water- mainly families of Canada geese that swam around with the parents in the lead. On the ocean side of the main road, there were also painted statues of different types of birds, made from small pieces of wood and bark. Charlotte, a keen photographer, would bring her mom’s phone to the lagoon to snap shots of the wildlife she saw.
When Charlotte looked into the water, she saw a heron. It was a few feet away from the shore, its narrow legs partly submerged. It had gray feathers and a pointy orange beak, and it was standing quite still, patiently waiting for a yummy snack to swim by.
Charlotte realized that it could make a good picture and brought out the phone to take a photo. Even though she was standing on the beach, the heron was far enough away that she had to zoom in with the camera. After taking multiple pictures of the bird, Charlotte looked at the phone and realized that the water in the background looked like something Grampa Ed would paint.
When we got home after the walk, Charlotte emailed Grampa Ed to ask him if he could do a painting of the heron. She sent him a photo and told him that she thought the lagoon looked like Grampa Ed water. He responded saying that the picture wasn’t clear enough for him to paint, but he said that he could use another photo he had taken.
A month or two later, Charlotte and I walked to the mailbox on our street to find a key inside. It was always exciting to receive a key for the parcel box, although there was a high chance it was just a delivery from Amazon. But when we opened the large compartment up, we realized it was for us. We took it home, wondering what it could be.
When we opened the parcel, we found a letter and 2 prints inside. The letter said we should create a name for the paintings and a story to go with them. We hung the pictures in our bedrooms. In the painting, a heron was standing on a rock, surrounded by Grampa Ed water. It was a beautiful painting, and now we had to name it.
We decided to name it Isolation, after the similarities between the heron and us. The bird was standing alone in the lagoon, waiting for his lunch to swim by. We were by ourselves for most of the time, too, waiting for the coronavirus restrictions to be lifted. I don’t know how long it took for the heron’s patience to be rewarded, but I’m sure it was. As I’m writing this months later, I still don’t know when we will get our good luck, but one day it will come. In the meantime, the paintings on our walls remind us that while we can’t live like normal, we have a pretty awesome grandfather.
Mya Willing
