Mom’s first purchase when we immigrated from the east coast in 1966 was an original oil painting. The dark painting brings to life European poverty from the 18th century A mother looking over her daughter who is crying over spilled milk. An overhead light was required to illuminate the intricacies of the painter’s images. The value of the canvas changed to almost worthless when we discovered that it was painted over another drawing. The picture calmed my mother’s undiagnosed depression. While my mom lived with me for seven years, the picture was the centerpiece of my condo. But the light refused to ignite. The wiring had become frayed. It became impossible to view the art without a flashlight or during the day when natural sunlight was provided. Six months after her death, my sister was visiting and asked to look at the painting. It was evening and I told her about the faulty light. She proceeded to click the switch. When darkness overwhelmed the art, I tried the knob myself. Abruptly light seeped onto the frame and showered us with a sign from Mom. A sentimental miracle occurred.