She had jet black hair, and dark, thick eyebrows which she passed on to her three sons, who all grew up to be handsome in a dark, mysterious way. As children we all loved her because she was funny. It wasn’t until later in life that I learned that this particular great-aunt, with her dark thick eyebrows, was the one person in our family who knew the most about magic. I learned this in the context of funerals, where she knew what rituals to carry out to prevent evil spells, but I’m sure she knows a lot more than that.
I hadn’t seen her in about a decade, maybe longer, but today one of her sons came by – sporting his own pair of thick, dark eyebrows – and took me to see her. She’s married to the only surviving one of my grandmother’s brothers. He is too old to remember who I am, but he smiled at me, and told me repeatedly that I’m beautiful.
Also, their small apartment held a big surprise: there in the foyer, by the light switches, were three of my old oil paintings from when I was 16 or 17. And here I thought my old ladies had thrown them all out! But this is the magic of making art: you never know where it will end up and who will enjoy it. I love knowing that a great-aunt I haven’t seen in a decade gets to look at my paintings every day. And perhaps all the good things that have happened to me have something to do with an old witch with dark thick eyebrows liking my work and casting a good spell.
