Probably every day I think of my friend Liz who died before her time, I can remember drawing her crazy curly hair when we shared a studio together in art school. Somedays, I know I am painting like her. And other days, I want to channel her relaxed understanding of teenagers as I try to deal with mine. And then, when I go back in time in the flatfiles of old drawings, I find not only my drawing of her, but drawings of others who are still alive, but are no longer the people pictured in the drawings any more. There is my own beautiful detailed drawing of my second son sleeping when he was about 4 maybe….15 years ago. I miss the people in those drawings.