His Liability (Completed)

Chapter 46: Her First And Last Portrait Painting

The dusty shelves of the living room took me back to the time wherein I spent all the days of my vacation reading these books. I've learned so much in such a very young age by reading these books and I know if given a chance to change something during my vacation- I would've done the same thing over and over again.

I ran my hands on the white sheets that have been covering the furniture and almost everything inside the house. Dust and cobwebs filled the entire place that I can't even remember how it looked like back in the days. 

I walked past the living room and went straight to the kitchen where I saw the huge wooden counter of my Aunt Hilda. I saw the plates inside the cabinet and the silver casseroles that she used to love using when she's in the mood to bake. I remember the different kinds of pasta she liked to cook. I remember how careful she is while preparing them and how observant she is when it it's time to take it off the oven or at least take it off from the heat. She used to love cooking second to painting, 

I smiled as the bitter memories flooded my mind and went straight to one of the rooms she kept locked for years. I took the stairs and turned to the right only to see a broken door knob. It must've been broken because of the cleaning of the men when they came here to hide the truth. With a heavy heart, I pushed the door open and saw the working room of my auntie. She used to stay here all day when I was little and paint random things. She loves painting skyscrapers, sceneries and almost everything that her eyes can capture.

I walked across the room and touched the white cloth that has been covering all the things inside the room before gently taking it off- revealing her old works. I took all the white cloths from her works and saw her legacy. I saw her history- her personality, her happiness, her expression and the most important thing of them all; her soul. I once again saw her soul that taught me how to love. Her soul that taught me how to forgive despite all the hurtful things I have experienced. Her soul that taught me how to perceive life in a lighter tone. Her soul that taught me how to be a normal kid; how to be good despite the bad things happening to me; how to be happy despite my tragic history; how to be brave despite the giant in my way. 

And I think that is more than enough to cherish her for the rest of my life. I guess that's enough for me to treasure every little memories we shared together- even though it was short, still, I was happy. I was happy when I was with her and I know, I just know... everything that she shared to me will be passed on to the people around me and hopefully, I can share these amazing things to them. 

I sat on the chair as I stared at her last work. This is the only painting that I have never seen before. It's a painting of a man. It's a painting of a man sitting under a tree while holding a book. The tree stood tall among the plants that have been surrounding it. The tree with a huge trunk supported the back of the man as he read the book he's holding. My mind wondered at the back story of this painting. This is my first time to see a human subject in her paintings. Way back then, she told me she doesn't like to paint people because it will only take the eyes of the observer from the main subject- which is the view. Aunt Hilda likes to admire the natural view of the world and even the man made city lights. She loved to observe and paint it afterwards. It's like she has a photographic memory that lets her paint everything she sees. 

I sat closer to the painting and took it off the canvas stand. I took a closer look to find her signature and after a few minutes of searching, I finally found it; at the top of the head of the man she drew.  I smiled as I imagined her enjoying every little stroke she made. I can imagine her putting so much effort to it that she even spent the night with her brush and paints. 

I was about to put it back to where it was before I held it, when I touched something at the back. It felt like a piece of paper and when I turned the canvas, I saw a photo. My hands turned cold as my eyes were dominated with tears once again. My chest feels happy and heavy at the same time. I can't help but to shake while staring at the photo that looks exactly like the one in the painting.