ARTIST AT WORK

I was newly divorced and moving into an apartment. My son was four and my daughter was three. The children were supposed to be in their new room occupied with toys while the movers brought in the boxes and furniture under my direction.

The movers left and I located my son but my daughter was not in their room. I found her very busy in the bathroom drawing on the wall. She had managed to find an ink pen and had drawn a box with dots inside. It had two lines out the sides of the box and two lines out the bottom of the box.

My precious, artistic three-year old daughter looked at me with pride and announced, “Man!” The joy in her huge dark eyes left me no choice but to praise her drawing. I put a frame around it and left it there the entire four years we lived in that apartment. Of course guests would ask about it and we replied “That is the man of the house”.

We moved into a larger home later and I remained single while my children were growing up. My son was in college. My daughter left for college leaving me home alone. I walked through my empty house. I walked into my daughter’s bathroom and she had drawn that same picture on a smaller scale and put a frame around it as a going-away gift.

I cried then. I cry every time I think about it.