Sometimes, the painting is just an artifact for a story that took place while painting. This is one of them. I never realized how symbolic the bridge would become.
I found a lovely park with some very interesting different views and vantage points, but I struggled to decide on which area to settle on. After walking around for about an hour, I decided in the end on the stone bridge. I was painting there for several hours when a man, walking with a noticeable limp (Possibly disabled) brought his kids out to fish on the side of the pond. This is a fairly normal hobby in Madison. At first, it seems wholesome and like things were going pretty well. It turned ugly after about an hour and the son and daughter were getting upset and in turn, upsetting their dad. They complained about a few things, and the dad got frustrated. Next thing you know, the pre-teen son is telling his dad how stupid and dumb he is. Can't cast a reel, he says. The dad, embarrassed, tries to play it off as the cheap goddamned Wal-Mart poles he bought just for today were the problem. They escalate louder until the daughter says she wants to call her mom. She argues with dad, then steals the phone from his pocket. Dad having this limp, can't keep up or walk so well. Kids call mom. Kids leave their dad there, alone. Tacklebox and poles left sitting, he tries to gather whatever he can up. Its heartbreaking to see, hear, and experience with them (though I am sure they never thought twice about my being there). Bobbers, tackle, and line left behind, dad slowly makes his way back to the truck. As he walks by, I can feel his pain and humiliation, looking defeated. I couldn't help myself, I just dropped to the ground and began to sob.
I texted my only real friend in Madison, Chess. She walks me through the whole things and explains that this is just a trauma response, its okay to cry, I am safe. It's okay that this happened, and its okay to take time. I gathered myself and went back to painting.
Twenty minutes later, another set of siblings come upon my area with a long contraption and their grandparents. They stop to talk to me about how they use this rod grandpa made to retrieve bobbers from the trees and water to fish with rather than buying new. This is a fun tradition for the four of them and they seem to really enjoy doing this together. We chat for a few minutes and then the kids come across the bobbers and line from the first family. They cheered and hollered with excitement over their discovery.
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