A couple weeks ago, I was training a woman who decided to get into the restaurant/bar industry as her summer job. She is a math teacher otherwise. Very nice lady, and I genuinely enjoy conversating with her. I love her views and passions.
This same day, one of my regular customers came in and ordered his usual double whiskey with a Diet Pepsi chaser. He was also a very passionate man. He also has his own views, strong views.
What brought these two opposite strangers to speak to each other and completely engage in a willing manner? Their children. His daughters are all grown up and have their own families. Her sons are teenagers, creeping into adult life. They spoke about the struggles, pains and the worth of it all.
But it was something that this man had said that put tears in both of their eyes, “When you’re children are little, they always give you pictures of their artwork, and you always put them on the refrigerator. When you put them up, you always take down the last one. Then there’s that one day that you take down the last picture and you don’t even know it then…That it’s the very last picture that you will ever take down. Until you get grandchildren, then it’ll be the same for them. One day, you’ll take down the last picture of theirs also.”
The woman in training said with glassed eyes and a reminiscing stare, “You are absolutely right. You’re going to make me cry” she laughed it off, wiping a tear away from her left eye,”You’re right”
It made me think of my kitchen. One wall in the kitchen is completely dedicated to Tyler’s artwork, minus the “Breakfast Beat Cafe” sign. That sign is for another blog. I have stared at that wall many mornings, sitting with my cup of tea and pondering about the moment that they will fade. How sad that moment will be, when all of those memories will be taken down and stored into a cardboard box for a one day reminisce.
His artwork is so important to me, as I am an inspiring artist and I feel artwork is the expression of emotions without the words. However, his early pictures are mostly of learning shapes and ways of drawing. His most recent drawings do express how he feels and what he sees. All of it is a value of beauty and love.
This is my favorite picture. He drew this when he was 3 years old. I kept swearing to people that he was drawing faces. Nobody believed me. He only knew a few words, so he couldn’t tell me. Then, one day he pointed and said to me, “face, mommy”. I knew it! I just knew he was drawing faces. Of course, as a new mother, my thoughts were, “My child is a prodigy!”
I love his art. I love how his silly side, his kindness, and wonder is shown through all of them. They are in my kitchen to remind him of what amazing things he can do and become. I don’t need that reminder, but I love seeing them everyday regardless. I love seeing the sweet little pieces of him on these colorful sheets of paper. They are forever keepsakes. They are what I love about him. I will continue to love these sentimental pieces until that one day, I will also reach for that one last picture…