Took Her Time

She sat in the studio for months.

Not forgotten — just not ready. Layer after layer went down and didn't quite land. Colors that didn't cooperate. A composition that refused to resolve. At one point, she went through a pastel 70s couch phase that nobody was going to admit to.

So I covered most of her in white and started again. Spray paint this time. Magentas and deep wine reds finding their way back through. A single streak of teal in the lower center, unexpected, alive. Orange and gold glowing at the edges like heat underneath the whole thing. Black lines riding the surface — confident now, in a way they weren't in any of the earlier versions.

She knew what she was the whole time. She just wasn't going to be rushed into showing me.

Took Her Time is for the woman whose becoming does not follow anyone's schedule. Who has been told she's taking too long — to decide, to recover, to figure it out, to bloom — and has quietly ignored every single voice that wasn't hers. The ones who take their time are often the ones who arrive with the most to say.

Worth the wait. But she already knew that.