Willow stared at the brushes, once held by her grandmother--a woman she would never forget, a woman who saw life through the eyes of an artist, a woman who taught Willow to live like the colors on the canvas. She held a brush in her hand and closed her eyes. If she concentrated long enough she could feel her grandmother beside her, smiling, encouraging her to paint, to draw the life she wanted. She opened her eyes and said, "I hear you, Grams. Let the living begin. I will never forget you."