As I pulled the car onto the sandy parking space in our Enchanted Forest, Justin and I climbed out of the car and let the breeze sweep over us. We walked toward the pond area and visitors station. Butterflies danced from flower to flower as the tree branches bowed in the breeze.
Justin stopped and stood still; looked around and said, ” Mummy there are butterflies. I think they are Monarchs.” He watches their movements with much focus. While still looking with great attention, he declares, “They are Monarchs! Mummy, this place is filled with joy.”
Eager to start my sketch, I sat down on the nearest bench. Justin was pacing close by. He looked for his first sketch. He found it in a yellow daisy. I continued writing. Curious, he looks over my shoulder and asks, “Are you drawing?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“What are you drawing?”
“I’m drawing this moment,” I said.
“Oh,” he says,” I’m drawing this flower.” While pointing with emphasis, he adds, “And this flower.”
“Let’s keep going, ” I suggest, hoping to recover my most recent fleeting thought.
While we drew in our unique ways, our hearts were happy. My delight in finding an activity both mother and son could benefit from put such value as I didn’t want it to end. I sat writing as quickly as the words came without corrections, when I noticed Justin wiping his forehead and adjusting his body position in the sun.
“Are you thirsty?” I interrupt.
“Yes,” he replied, “I want to get something to drink because I’m getting hot.”
“Okay. We’ll go home.”
“Mummy, look at my picture.” He points his sketch book toward me to see. The exaggeration and simplicity of his plants drawings were unusual for six year old. He truly has a talent.
“Wow. That’s beautiful.” And I smile.
“Let me see yours.” I show him my words on paper. “That’s not a picture.”
“Sure it is,” I counter. “I made a picture with words instead of lines in a drawing.”
“You should use a drawing,” he remarks, “It’s better.”
lynettevillegas 