The Windshield Series-

My Mother’s final year on Earth put me in the driver’s seat. Literally. For more than a year, I spent every free moment behind the wheel of my car, rushing back and fourth from my home in Minneapolis to her nursing home in southern Wisconsin. Season after season, the miles stretched across long dull horizons. Frozen fields appeared hostile and cold. I felt I was holding my breath those five hours it took to reach my mom, never sure she would remember me. 

 

Catching my breath on the drive back home, I began to notice flashes of trees lit up by the peach sunrise or darkening line of blue pines as storms threatened miles off. Subtle color and light swaddled distance farm buildings. Flying down the freeway became a game of catch. Small, quick moments of beauty appeared as
I tried to snatch them up and release them on paper days later in my Twin Cities studio. 

 

As I worked, handwritten text appeared as a design element. Objectively, it made little sense, but the gibberish reminded me of my Mom’s speech after her stroke. Eventually, full sentences formed like a whisper. In the end, I came to believe we are all going in one direction and everything is truly this beautiful.

​