Artists sketch whimsical faces of children and adults. We watch them when we go to Seaside using their color pencils as they sketch tourists. Visitors go home with a souvenirs of their journey to the Pacific Ocean. My ex and I had such a drawing made on our honeymoon. I have pictures sketched of my children. Art that takes us from the past to the present wrapped in warm memories of a moment in time.
Mom dressed me in my best Sunday dress. A little pink frock with a row of buttons and rows of lace down the front. I didn't have many new dresses. I remember each one. My hair was combed and styled. This little country urchin wore her white patten leather shoes. I knew I was off to do something special. I knew because it wasn't Sunday.

For years the silhouette of that little girl has gone from home to home in box after box. It has resided in a box with all the other family papers collected over the years. Finally I pulled it from the box.
"This is me," I told my granddaughters.
They gathered around the shadow on paper touching the profile skillfully cut. The story unfolded of a little girl in her pink dress with a bow in her hair. A piece of my history and the history of another time came to life.
I don't think I sat atop one of those ponies that day. No, I was dressed in my Sunday best to preserve the memory of a special day at the fair.
No comments:
Post a Comment