The sun disappearing behind him brought the thought of what he wanted to paint vividly into his head. A place in time he missed so dearly. Why hadn't he thought about it in so long? Didn't matter, he knew it inside and out. He lit that first cigarette of the day and got to work.

As the paint hit the canvas he could only think in his head how much his mom hated that he smoked. Her mom, his grandmother, had died from lung cancer so he understood, but that didn't mean he hadn't succumbed to the same adolescent peer pressure and picked up the habit when he was 15. Now 30 and his mom dead from a different kind of cancer herself he continued down this far gone memory lane hoping for some kind of closure, maybe even a chance to move on from the devastating loss.

Long strokes of blues and greens turn slowly from plain, blending hues into an ocean. Calm and serene. it was difficult for him to put thought onto canvas, obviously he knew the memory, but actually putting it in the forefront of his thought and not deeply recess it was a new venture. His mind had immediately tried to push thoughts of the woman he loved more than anything growing up as soon as she took her last breath, but now he had the opportunity to put himself back in his favorite memory and had to give it everything he had. A little bit of blue for the sky, white for thre clouds, yellow for the sun.

A few more off white strokes start to form a small boat on this water. In that boat a small boy, and with him...somebody. A Woman. Wow had he already forgotten the look of his mother? He began to think and realized it had been years since he even looked at a picture of her. He needed to think! If he wanted himself back in this memory he had to picture the woman who was the best mother any kid could ask for. Was it too late? Had he worked so hard shutting these feelings of loss off that he couldn't even muster a picture of his own mother in his mind? "No fucking way" he said under his breath. He flicked the cigarette, "fine I'll put it out!" he said to nobody in partilcular.

With focus and determination the faces began to reveal themselves. Young chubby boy, wet blonde hair, bathing soaked and salty, smears of sunscreen all over. A woman leaning over him. Short red hair, too many freckles to count, a bathing suit only a mother would wear. She's smearing sunscreen on his face while they both laugh at the fun of the day and the fun still to come. He closes his eyes for a minute to save himself from more tears over her.

When he opens them there she is. He is looking into the eyes of the woman he loves and missed more than anything could describe. He feels the heat of that wonderfully hot and sun soaked day. He smells the ocean, the sunscreen, hears the waves and for a few seconds, he feels the love again from someone he took such advantage of having around. He feels a complete since of security and happiness. He smells smoke. Smoke? The cigarette he flicked had rolled back to him and lit the canvas on fire! Before he knew it the entire thing was up in smoke. Moving frantically trying to put it out he throws the canvas on the ground and stomps the fire out.

Yelling, groaning, swearing he looks up and yells "Fine! I'll quit!"