Artistically  Speaking 

 

  The large corner office boasted enormous ceiling to floor window. The panoramic view held the Hudson River and the beauty that surrounded it. To the left of the water were mountains and valleys painted in three different shades of majestic green. The trees swayed back and forth to the pull of the wind and seemed to be dancing.

  Her eyes gazed at the water. The river beckoned her to join it on its journey,  to experience the freedom of an adventure, full of twists and turns. She found herself daydreaming about where else she could be at that moment.  Instead, she was sitting numb, at the south end of the enormous cherry wood desk. A insufferable psychiatrist asked her in a condescending tone of voice,

"So… when do you think your troubles with men began Ms. Hood?" She smirked and thought back.

Her eyes followed the smooth curves of the carving alongside the polished table top until they came to a stop at the puffed up, balding man who was sweating so profusely that his bifocals kept sliding down the bridge of his nose. He held the keys to her freedom from this god-forsaken institution and she must say all the right things.

“My troubles with men began with my feelings of abandonment. My father was unable to be active in my upbringing because he was a drug addict. I am, however, aware that I am responsible for my actions and /or reactions toward men.” She knew he had to hear the sarcasm in her voice.