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“I understand,” I said.
Finally, he couldn’t take anymore and withdrew the picture from the drawer.
“Here!”
He jumped into bed with me.
I looked the image over as he ran his hands over me. I guess he deserved it for being a “brave” boy.
The image was simple with no clear features or defining attributes. It was not the work of someone used to working with paints, that was for sure.
But when I peered closer, I made out the different layers he’d added to the painting over time.
It might not look much but it’d taken him a long time to put together.
“This is a place you remember?” I said. “Or a place you want to go one day?”
I could understand why someone would want to have an image like this on the wall in such a dull and dismal place. There weren’t many windows and even if there were, it wasn’t a landscape you dreamed of being in.
Unlike this picture.
“It’s a memory I have,” he said. “Every year it fades a little more and I find it difficult to remember the details. So, I painted it and hope I’ll never forget it.”
I was touched and leaned over to kiss him on the lips. Who would have thought the champion fighter would have a soft spot?
“Does this picture look similar to your memory?”
“Not exactly. The colors are almost right. And there are other details I couldn’t do. The leaves weren’t big like this. They were small and rattled in the wind when it blew. There should be clouds in the sky but these ones aren’t right.”
“You know, I used to be pretty good at art when I was in school. I could help you draw a better picture if you wanted.”
His eyes sparkled.
“You could?”
“If you can get your hands on some paper and paint.”
He leaped out of bed and crossed to his wardrobe. He reached into the bottom and lifted out a board with paints and brushes on it. He had all the equipment. He just didn’t have the skills to create the image he wanted.
“Would you mind?” he said.
I smiled and put on a baggy T-shirt.
“You just try and stop me. But you’re going to have to give me guidance. I can’t look into your head and see the image, remember.”
We set up the board on the small dining table and leaned it against the wall. I picked up a small piece of charcoal and began sketching on the canvas.
Kren picked up a smaller pad of paper and a piece of charcoal.
“Okay,” I said. “First, we need to sketch what the rough image looks like. I’m going to use your painting to draw mine. Then I need you to help me figure out the details. Okay?”
He beamed at me.
“Okay.”
While I got to work sketching his image, he doodled on his pad. I let myself become absorbed with the painting. My surroundings slipped away and I was left with the canvas.
It took me back ten years to when I was in art class at high school. I had never been a great painter but I was good.
