Oil Gallery

When I was little, I lived in Vietnam. My mom, my dad, my brother, Sheepy, and I all lived in a big house with many little koi ponds dotting our front yard. Although I can’t remember much from this time, I know Sheepy and I spent a lot of our days together. I have the chipmunk-cheeked snapshots of us smiling into the computer’s Photo Booth camera to prove it.

I moved back to Maine for good when I was 6, but Sheepy didn’t come with me. I grew up and I spent long afternoons taking Photo Booth pictures with my next door neighbor Lila, instead. Eventually, I forgot about Sheepy and I no longer wanted to take Photo Booth pictures. I wanted to take selfies with my friends before homecoming. I wanted to photograph pretty sculptures in museums. I wanted to post pictures on Instagram of me with my friends at the beach or all the cool places I’ve been lucky enough to visit.

A few months ago, my aunt found Sheepy hiding in a cardboard box in her attic. Somehow, he climbed his way into the boxes she shipped from Vietnam to Maine when she moved for good, too. Little did I know he was so close, all this time. Sheepy and I spend a lot of time together again, but we share the bed with lots of other stuffed animals I’ve collected over time. He sees a lot more now. Sheepy sees when I cry about boys. He sees when I’m up late because my brain won’t give me one second of peace to sleep. He sees me hungover most Sundays. He sees me without makeup and he sees me when I’ve forgotten to take it off before bed, too. Sheepy sees it all. And he gives me the best hugs.