Mary 

I was working as a barista at a local coffee shop, unsure of what to paint next.  One day, I paused behind the counter and looked over at Mary.  She was always there, reading the paper, sipping her daily drip with her own favorite mug—steady and familiar, like a loyal friend.

I asked if she would mind if I painted her. She graciously agreed, and I later discovered that the table beside her had been made by her son, a skilled carpenter, who used wood from a local tree to craft the table.  That cozy corner carried a beautiful sense of family history.  It was a privilege to get to know and paint her.

Original Sold.

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