I was at an art opening last night. Very cool concept Pop-up Art. An abandoned Borders was taken over by a group of local artists for the month. The opening was enticed with wine, live jazz and doors open to a beautiful summer evening.
As we were strolling around the pieces, exclusively paintings, among all the guests, I said to Patti, “I’m trying to discern who the artists are.”
She replied, “The one’s with the name tags.”
I looked around. Duh!
The artists were all wearing tags with their name on the top line. And on the line below their designation. “Artist.”
“I want a name tag!”
Patti humored me, “What would yours say?”
What would mine say?
I of course. Immediately replied proudly, “Writer.”
But I’ve since been thinking. Maybe better. I should be designated. Author. Mom. Funny person. Wife. Friend. Daughter. Athlete. Meditator. Problem Solver. Jack of Many Trades.
Who am I?
An awesome meditation.
The name tag says.
Who I am.
Who am I?