I wish I still owned that jacket! Just last year I painted my bedroom that same shade of purple. "Cupid's Arrow", the paint salesman called it. When I was four, I used to spend what felt like forever trying to get that color right in my self portraits. Attention to details, the strangest of details. Whoops, too much red. Now I need more blue. Once, I accidentally took a huge swig of the purple water, confusing it with my grape Kool-Aid.
My Dad used to bring home these huge rolls of teletype paper. I'd fill them up with drawings and paintings of everything I saw, and everyone I knew. I'd have to ask for help when it was time to roll them back up so I could use the other side. They were so heavy.
"Haha, I look like a puptent," Ms. Nichols, my preschool teacher gasped when I gave her a portrait. I was not yet critical of my art or self. And, being four, I wasn't really sure about the definition of puptent. I would beam with innocent pride when Gramma would immediately have to show Auntie Doris my rendition of her hair. "Look at her muumuu," my uncles would point out to my Mum. "She wore that one to Kevin's birthday party last Sunday! Remember?" Yes - Gramma wore muumuus then - I loved them and I gave them the kind of attention you're supposed to give to something you love. I was excited when Gramma assured me that, one day, I would inherit them. Now I don't want them. I just want her to be around.
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