She draws without any reservation. Her bucket is filled to the top with crayons named Cerulean and Tickle Me PInk. In the corner of our living room, she carves out a space, where comfort exists in a piece of paper, her colors, and imagination. The blank page fails to intimidate her. She craves to fill it up. With tenderness. With love. With stick figures.
It was midafternoon on Monday, the markers of ordinary life littered our home. Dishes in the sink, laundry lazing around in the basket, and bills screaming to be paid. My monotony was interrupted by my daughter’s voice, the pull of her tone, urged me to stop and listen to what she had to say. Her hands held two pictures she drew, one of me and her father, the other of our house, sitting under a rainbow.
A blur took over as I sensed the wetness forming in corner of my eyes. My emotions mimicked the rainbow in her drawing, sunshine and rain melting together. And within these two emotions, a burst of goodness filled my body. It came at the exact right time. My heart angled toward my daughter, as she explained to me, that her Momma and Daddy and her house make her happy.
This moment was something I wanted to hold on to. Everyday she draws at least five pictures for me. They all are in folder near my desk. Everytime she gives me a new picture, I want to preserve that innocence and love in a jar. There will be a day when she tires of this act. I know it. It will be replaced by filling the page, but probably to notes to friends, letters to boyfriends, or her own journal entries.
The colors will be donated and the space in the corner will be a memory I can only recall. But when I see those stick figures years from now, I’ll be reminded of that burst of goodness that struck me on an otherwise ordinary Monday afternoon.
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Do you have these bursts of goodness? Does your child draw regularly? Are your surprised by what they see? Do their drawings give you comfort?
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
relish those fleeting ordinary moments… stick figures will indeed become a rarity in time… and your forethought is spot on regarding the ether into which they disappear…
Thinking about how rare these stick figures will become makes me a little sad. I will definitely try to relish these memories. Thanks Renee.
Rudri,
I love this. Such a special moment for the two of you. Her world is perfect right now with you. I know that these times are fleeting and that you wish her happiness remains-always. I always want to keep the pictures and papers my sons give me- it’s all so special . As she grows up she will share all her special things with you. 🙂
I can’t wait to hear what she has to share. I imagine it will get more complicated as she gets older, but for now, I am enjoying the simplicity of these moments.
Oh, this is beautiful. And yes. Toddler and Baby draw me amazing pictures every day and I treasure them so much. It is amazing to witness the evolution of these masterpieces – and of my girls.
Thanks Aidan. I still remember the pic of the little yellow baby chicks that one of your girls drew. Such precious memories that carve out a space in your heart.
I know! Don’t you wish you could save them all? So sweet.
Yes I do, but if I did that I would need more than a bin. A room perhaps?
So precious.I saved all my children’s drawings. When two filing cabinets were overflowing the hubs made me go through them and only save my very favorites. I framed those and now they hang on our walls.
What a wonderful way to cherish your children and pay tribute to their youth. I love that idea.
That is so precious. I am so glad she is a happy little girl and you’ll have these memories.
I am glad too Tiffany.
My daughter used to draw rainbows and refuse to wear anything but pink. Now that she’s 25, she still sends me a rainbow with a sweet text message or a post on Facebook. How I wish I would have stopped, looked, and listened more when she and her sisters were small children! My four daughters are still a gift to me now as adults, only different.
May our love jars always overflow with the gifts our children give–not just on Mother’s Day, but every single day. Thanks for the reminder to stop and savor these special gifts. Happy Mothers Day, Rudri!
Thanks Diane. I think it is wonderful that your daughter sends those texts and FB messages. Thanks for the Mother’s Day wishes. Happy Belated Mother’s Day to You!
Awww…this is so sweet and I love how big the smiles are in the pics. She is truly happy.
Judy: Pretty soon you will see Reizo doing the same. And you will be collecting his priceless pieces of art.
Nothing warms my heart the way little kid stick figures do. I have a drawer of them saved. They always, always make me smile.
Me too CK. Me too.
I have a huge bin under my bed full of sketches and drawings from both children. There’s something about those fledgling masterpieces that holds and invokes the innocence and purity of youth.
Kelly: You are right. They are tiny masterpieces that are just as important to us as is to them. I keep her drawings in a bin and I hope one day she will go through it and remember her youth.