Monday, October 21, 2013
@1:39 PM
"I brung you something," she announced.
"You did?"
"Yup." 7-year-old Lori sat, straddling my legs, her back to my chest. "You wanna see what it is? Here." She lifted the paper over her head so that it was against my nose. I took it.
The picture was of a bird, a blue bird with black wings and very yellow legs. It was a rather tottery-looking bird, because Lori's ability in art followed her ability in other things done on paper. But happiness was clearly written all over that bird's beak.
"I think this is the best picture I ever drew. I used my best crayons, the ones with the points still on them. And do you see? I stayed in the lines this time. Pretty good, anyhow. It's just about the best thing I ever done."
"Oh, Lor, you're right. It is. This is a picture to be proud of."
"I am proud of it. But I made it for you."
"Well, I'm glad to have it. It is a good picture. Maybe I can find a place on our bulletin board to put it, so everyone else can enjoy it too."
Lori took the picture from my hands and held it out in front of her. Thoughtfully, she examined it. "You know what I was thinking when I made this?"
"What was that?"
"Well, I was thinking that it isn't as good as a real picture. You know, as a photograph. Like in a magazine or something. And I really wanted it to look just the best with no mistakes. But it wouldn't come out like I was trying to make it. It wasn't perfect."
"Oh Lor, don't say that. It's beautiful. Better than any old photograph."
"No. No, that's not what I'm saying. It isn't right because that wasn't the way I wanted to draw it. It wasn't perfect, like I wanted it to be. But you know Tor, what I was thinking about..." She paused, her voice trailing off while she gave the picture another thorough viewing. "What I was thinking about was: It is perfect. Not the part you see but what's inside you. In my head, I could see this bird perfect." She turned to look at me briefly and gave me a smile. "And that's sort of enough for me to like this picture even though it isn't really very perfect. Because... well, because I kind of know it could be..."
She turned to me again. "You know what I mean?"
I nodded. "Yes, I think I do."
"Things never really are perfect," she said. "But inside you, you can always see them perfect, if you try. That makes things beautiful for me."
"You're a dreamer, Lor."
She gazed at me, her eyes dark and round and beyond smiling. She said nothing.
"That's a good thing to be."
The blue bird picture never made it up on our bulletin board. I took it home with me. I hung it on the wall over my bed to remind me at least twice a day about beauty in an imperfect world.
- Someone Else's Kids, Torey Hayden