I have a "drawing" hanging on my blue bulletin board above my computer. My daughter made it for me. Mostly it's a collection of green, yellow (the only color she can sort of say), orange, black, blue, and red. She has lost her brown crayon (I know where it is) and doesn't have a purple on in her bucket yet. There's no meaning to the scribbles, and I can't find any hidden pictures - partly because I refuse to look for them. I have it because it's an expression of her desire to learn new things... a testament to her unmitigated compulsion to learn - and play. I have it at work because it's especially important for me to remember that message while I'm looking at the same kind of request for the umpteenth time in a month.
And because it reminds me of sitting behind her as she stood at the paper on the stool, giddy with crayons in her hands and mama at her back... and the smell of her hair and the warmth of her as she leaned back against me to review her work. In short, because it reminds me of being with her, and being happy.
I never used to be able to understand why my mom cared so much about the scribbles I put on her refrigerator door... and sometimes even felt guilty that I hadn't taken enough time to make something that warranted that kind of display.
I get it now.
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