It is a day like all others at the hardware store in London. London is a busy capital, the main capital of Great Brittan at that. Even though it is so busy, work has been slow all day today.
Normaly there are atleast 3 people in the shop to find their "do it yourself" tools. It is not rare that costumers explain their plans to us, the staff and we have to intervene. We then explain how it is properly done according to what the do it yourselfer wants to do. We have seen everything from freshly baked parentes wanting to make their own homemade swings all the way to cocky men who want to build hoses without knowledge.
A laugh echoes out of my mouth as a memory searches its way to the front of my mind.
            
                                                                                           *
My dad is messuring the tree in the backyard as my 7-year-old self is playing soccer and watching him. He starts sawing plywood on the garden table to get a steadier grip. Dad catches me staring at his handy work and calls me over. I run to the table in the green wet gras and as I arrive he picks me up to swirl me around in the air before he puts be down again. 

                                                                                           *

I giggle and realise how happy I was back then. He taught me how to saw that day and I was allowed to help him out until dinner. In the end we built a tree house together.

My dad was and still always is the handyman in our family, he got it from his dad and his dad got it from his dad and so on in generations and of course he followed the tradition and taught me. He tried to teach my big sister Viola about handywork but she did not like to work with her hands so instead he started teaching me and I loved it from a young age. Hence to why I have started to work at the hard ware store we always drove past on the way to his construction sites in London, yes I was allowed to come with him on certain days. I still love working with my hands and building cool and nice things. I remember the time me and my dad built a shed in the backyard next to the tree house, the shed turned into a home for two smal pigs that our family adopted. Me and my sister named them Peggy and Clarisa, both of them 12 weeks old and loving cuddles. We had them for a couple of years before our family together decided to move to a house that my dad and uncle together with my command had built on the edge of town. Peggy and Clarissa moved of course with us but they had to move into a barn instead of a little shed and the poor girls were startled with the amount of room they had to run around on but they loved it until they passed away at the age of 12 and 13. 

Now that I am 27 years, 6 months and 4 days old, yes I do count my age exactly thank you. I can now see that the way my parentes handled me and Viola turned out to us having a happy childhood with allot of laughter and of course some sorrows like when our pigs passed away but our parentes were always active in our lives. They helped us through sorrows and made our long days in school to nice ones the second we got home and could smell pancakes. It was fun because some days we could just sit and play board games all together at  the kitchen table and laugh over our loses instead of making a big thing out of them. Our parentes are always the first ones to get to know if something is up and two of the biggest reasons are for one, they have always showed us their emotions and how to handle them correctly according to the situation and for seconds, they have always built us up instead of punching down on our dreams. Hence to how my sister became one of the best lawyers in Great Brittain and working at Houldsworth Solicitors and I am a ghost painter in growth. 

I found out about different kinds of art from my uncle at the age of 16 years, 4 months and 3 days, it shocked me how many different types there are and after that I started to get invested. I learnt about different tools and different essentials for specifik projects, it made my mind just click and be quiet for some time. For me painting is kind of the same as building something atleast in the sence of planning. You start of by writing down your build up for the foundation of it, preparing sketches, getting the necessary tools and colours and canvases for the project. Trying out what works best, read about your project and understand how different colours work with different canvases, then try the idea out with a few drafts and changing the smal differences from time to time. In the end I started to understand how to do different things in a certain way to be lucky within the first few drafts and when my first painting was done I got into selling it. I did necessary research and found out about this awesome underground art gallery where I send in my creations under a fake name, sometimes to sell them and sometimes to just see who is interested in them as I mingle around. 

A ghost painter is like a ghost writer, publishing in this case my art under a false name and let someone else take over in the future when I want to stop with my passion, no strings attached to society. Since it is my passion to paint, I do not think that under any circumstances I will be able to stop any time soon but maybe my future kids will take over when it is a legacy for them. 

Having kids, oh god, such a big step in life and I am not ready for it at my age. I have anxiety over getting old, anxiety over missing out on lives opportunitys, scared of missing out on the golden fruits between the rotten ones. I want to have kids but it scares the living fuck out of me to think about. So much needs to be lived through and experiences to be having before little me's start running around the apartment or at best around the future dream house of mine. Children need allot of attention and love, in a perfekt world I want to give them just as much love as my parentes gave me and my big sister. As a future mother to my own children I feel so much responsibility, making them understandable people who accept and respect others. As a future parent it will be my quest to fulfill them with love and affection. To understand them and to prevent bad habits from forming but most importantly do prevent depression from growing. Everyone can have bad days but the bad habit of looking down at myself has been there once in my life and I do not wish thoose thoughts onto anyone not even my worst enemy. 

The time at work flies by as if minutes turned into seconds and hours into minutes and after what feels like half of my shift I have ended work for the day. Halfly dazed by to litttle sleep from last night I wannder towards the store and get myself some cranberry juice and a chocolate bar. Every month I have specifik cravings and right now it is theese two combined. After paying for my things I start walking home again with a drenched umbrella that is trying its best to protect me from the rain. I only live 15 minutes away from work so luckily I do not get to wet from the pouring rain and get inside my apartment in Lambeth - London only to let out a relieved sigh when seeing my home before me. Clean and taken care of, just like you want it to look like when getting home after a boring day at work. 

I sit down in my couch and look around the walls and wonder why someone would choose to have a blue fond wall painted combined with the neutral grey on all the others. To understand my question, the blue is a dark moonlight blue in the middle of the living room. Well not the middle but the living room and kitchen are combined so that the blue wall is the one on the short side combining them if that makes sence. Anyway, as I turn on the TV and start watching my favorite show on Netflix with my cranberry juice in the whine glass and the opened chocolate bar next to me life feels just about right and I slowly get carried away by a wonderful dream.