A month ago, Carrie, a friend of mine, texted me while she was on vacation in Mexico.

“I want you to paint an image for my friend who is dying of cancer.”

I had an instant tightening in my stomach. I responded, “Of course I will!”

We immediately went to work planning the premise of the idea she had in mind.

It included words describing her courageous, strong, and fierce character. 

It had to include an eight-point buck, a spiky hairstyle resembling her own, and flowers native to Hawaii. 

In retrospect, I should have painted it with acrylic paints because they are fast-drying, unlike my water-soluble oils. 

I finished the painting, but it wouldn’t dry, regardless of my use of fans and quick dry spray. 

Carrie texted me again to say that her friend was going fast and to please mail the painting priority status. That night, I woke up around 2:00 a.m. with the idea that I needed to drive to her friend’s house, which was less than two hours away. So, I grabbed the still-sticky painting and went to Issaquah at 9:00 a.m.

When I arrived, a man named Steve answered the door. He told me Carrie’s friend had died that morning. My heart sank. He gave me a big hug as I handed him the painting. That hug was worth every mile I had driven.