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Lead, Paper, Time

February 21, 2009

He is the master of the tools in front of him.  Grabbing an expensive pencil bought during a recent weekend trip to Asheville, he begins to draw.

Robots fill the page.  Super Harley begins to emerge from the tip of the lead.  Dialogue boxes appear above the characters.

A story takes shape on the paper.  There has been a bank robbery, a violent crime against a young sister,  and a terrible plot involving multiple heroes and villains.

His head is bent over the page; his focus forces my breath back in my throat.  He is beautiful.

I want to touch his cheek as he draws, to feel its fleeting softness.  I want to kiss the top of his head but am afraid he’ll pull away.  I want him to stay curled up, drawing in this small body, for the next century.

Guilt accompanies the love.  The ways I haven’t equipped him, the sorrow I feel when I see his lack of confidence in school or new friendships, the way he is hard on himself like I am hard on myself.

The guilt is pushed down and I watch him.  He is in artist glory.  Confident and proud of Super Harley and the robots.  He draws and draws and draws and I watch the lead grow smaller.  He doesn’t notice.

I watch a piece of my heart draw and draw and draw.

When the picture is finished, he is satisfied.

I stand back and hold up the drawing.  I breathe in and out as I slowly look at the lines, the intricacies and details, and the way light fills up the page.

He is beautiful.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. February 22, 2009 2:36 pm

    This is so beautiful, Jess.
    Today I watched a piece of my heart be baptized. My oldest daughter, 7, was baptized. And I cried and cried. So thankful that in spite of my millions of mistakes, He can still move in her little heart. Reminded once again that she is truly His.
    I am so thankful we don’t have to be perfect. How blessed we are that He would allow us the privilege of playing such an important roll in the lives of His little treasures.

    Love to you,
    K

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