As I enter my studio each morning, almost the first thing my eyes land on are my pastels. They are neatly arranged by softness and purpose. I truly love each and every brightly colored stick. Today, I take a box that is kept on a shelf and smile remembering that other morning. It was my 12th birthday and this box was sitting on the table next to the orange juice where my cereal bowl should have been. It was the gift from my parents. Opening the well worn lid I read, M. Grumbacher, Set No. 34, General Assortment, 40 Soft Pastels. This box and it's contents filled the best of my young years. It went off to college with me and was eternally off limits to my hop-scotch playing children. It's still in amazingly good shape, all things considered. Most of the original pastels have worn away with use and been replaced. Looking at them now I can't but wonder if there aren't a few specks of the original inhabitants that greeted me that morning half a century ago. The sight of them had spoke to me of dreams and wishes, beauty and endless possibilities. They still do.
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