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By Angela D. Shelton

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The framed painting oozed peace and tranquility. If Jan Worthington could have crawled into the canvas to become a part of the landscape, she would have. Lush green fields where tall grasses waved in the gentle breeze were the center of the piece, but the eye-catcher was the girl on a swing underneath an oak in the painting’s corner. Her wide-brimmed purple hat, Jan’s favorite color, rippled back with the motion, and with the way her feet flew up into the air, life must be carefree for this child.

Jan reached to touch the picture, wanting it, but even more so, wanting to sit on such a swing in such a place, not a care in the world to pull her back down to earth. This was how her life should have been. But at sixteen, she knew a different life. One that wasn’t untroubled or without worry.

The artist in her ached to explore the textures of the paint’s ridges. The painter perfectly captured the wind’s movement and the swing’s momentum with their brushstrokes. She longed to hold a paintbrush again and stroke the canvas with colors and textures.

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