This series of drawings reflects my experience of motherhood. Rather than the physical record of daily chores or activities, these are the manifestations of my hopes and anxieties. These dreams are filled with real and constructed landscapes, seen, or obscured, through the lens of figures, arms, and grasping hands. I am habitually drawn to rock formations and fields of flowers. Viewing rock formations I notice the layers of sediment, the ebbing of color that denotes the passage of time. These elements of the landscape elude to a permanent, continuous presence, but recognize the smallness of our individual time on earth, and how short a time I have to mother these children. Flowers and gardens mark the season, and are manifestations of cultivation, of tending, and contrast the centuries old geology with their impermanence. Overlaid on this imagery are silhouettes of hands, arms, or figures. I often feel that my arms are my most precious resource. They allow me to hold hands across parking lots, to carry bags, to wash dishes, gesture when I am intensely speaking, to draw, to write, and they are often full. In some cases, these arms and figures become windows to what is exuberant and joyful in life. They clarify and prioritize beauty, hope, and rejuvenation. In other cases, they are obstacles, dulling the outside world through a sense of obligation, or fear. Both experiences are true, useful, and not mutually exclusive. I look to my children and myself, holding anxiety and hope in the same space, as I wonder who we will each become, and what small moments may shape our progress. Through slowly layering watercolor, colored pencil and graphite, I grapple with these contradictions, and the thin membrane through which we absorb the world and one another.