...Paintings of trains & houses & cats & dogs (including one very special dog named Fred & one very special cat named Max) leaned against the warm beige walls, waiting for the artist & his wife to set them in their places of honor around the room.
In a display case at the end of the small gallery, brightly colored objects - boxes & books & a pair of creativity pom poms, brilliant pen & ink drawings by a sister, a pink hippo made long ago by a student whose own children are almost grown, a pin made by the artist - wait to be set out on the glass shelves.. The kite that's usually on the wall behind her as she types at her computer is now on a lower display case shelf, its playfully written spiral of soaring words waiting for an arrow-shaped Post-it note to spotlight where the special cat scratched a hole in just one word - curiosity.
The bank hasn't opened yet. There's still a hush in the building, the only noise the sound of the traffic outside, cars going to or coming off the bridge spanning the river.
The paintings wait, the objects wait, their anticipation building, waiting for the magic to begin.
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