A mixed and muddled drawing

The burning summer sun reflected off the ice cold water, the smell of chlorine wafting everywhere within a mile radius. Shrieks of laughter filled the air as a girl was splashed in the face. She looked up to hear a mischievous cackle that told her there was more where that came from. More laughter as she swam away, too late, as she was slammed with a wall of beeswax. 

The art of a six year old with a wild imagination can be a good creative outlet. An interpretive window into the world that resides in none other than her head. Of course, there’s the other option, the brain and the hand with a severed connection. The paper that’s covered with incomplete thoughts and scrambled puzzle pieces that belonged to completely different sets. 

Two crayon stick figures held hands on a small, wrinkled piece of paper. A boy and a girl. They stood next to a pool in a meadow. A mansion rose behind them as tiny fairies circled their heads and flew off into a forest in the distance. And next to the scene, with hundreds of crayons surrounding her, was a child. 

She displayed her mind on the rectangle in front of her. One of dozens scattered on the walls and floor of her bedroom. A child was surrounded by a world of her own creation. One only a child could create. 

——————————————————————————————————————————- 

“Mom?” The spoon in front of her pushed the cereal around in the bowl. The food remained intact. 

The woman in the kitchen didn’t answer. She didn’t even look in the girl’s direction. Suddenly, the dishes were being scrubbed harder than they should. 

I can’t see her face. I want to see her face. The girl furrowed her eyebrows. “Why can’t I have a–” 

“Enough of your strange obsession!” The mother gasped at her own sharpness. Her face relaxed and she put on a smile. “I already told you sweetie, we don’t need another child. You’re plenty enough for us.” She said it in an endearing tone, but it wasn’t enough to let it go. 

The girl touched the drawing in her pocket. The face of the boy. She couldn’t explain this yearning, this anemoia. She didn’t understand why imagination felt so true in her world, the lines so clear in mind yet so blurry in her heart. But for a child of her age, all she could communicate was, “I just wanted a friend…” 

She never brought it up again. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

The girl held her parents’ hands as they walked through the park. She observed the lush green foliage and the birds perched on the branches. She was reminded of something familiar. The birds above were smaller. The surrounding houses were grander. And suddenly the spot next to her felt very cold. 

Something to her right caught her attention. Enough to pull her out of her thoughts. It was a gated swimming pool. The surface rippled, and she stared. 

She giggled, bubbles coming from her mouth as she watched him kick his legs, just the two of them playing alone in the water, her arms wrapped around his neck as he dived to the bottom. 

She felt that empty sensation again as if she were missing her stomach, her heart, everything that’s ever been inside her. 

Her mother tapped her shoulder hesitantly. “Uh, hey sweetie… would you like to go in?” She looked nervous, even scared at the idea. Her father glanced at her too, as if he were holding his breath. 

“No thanks.” The girl responded immediately and turned away. She continued walking, trying to swallow the urge to throw up. 

——————————————————————————————————————————- 

Once again, there was a child in her room, drawing pictures with a stubby crayon in hand, but something felt different this time. Like she understood something she hadn’t grasped before. 

So she looked at the meadow, the forest, the pool. She looked at herself. She was smiling, her face filled with as much joy as a six year old’s drawing could show. Then she looked at the boy. And his face was… empty. Completely empty. A circle filled with plain white, an untouched canvas. The girl couldn’t help but feel like something was supposed to be there. Something missing she felt she should know. Something she did know at one point. 

So she stood up. She turned away from the drawings. Away from this world that had thrived in her mind, adapting and changing for years. And she found herself standing in front of a drawer she’d never opened. One she didn’t even realize existed. The girl pulled it open, and lifted a framed photo. 

The boy’s eyes glittered. His cheeks were lifted, teeth showing, nose slightly crooked. They played alone in the water, her arms wrapped around his neck. 

He looked happy. They looked happy.

Her arms squeezed tighter as his eyes fluttered shut… 

The sun sunk low over the horizon, bathing the sky in a dark orange. A child was curled up in her bedroom, surrounded by drawings of a world she created. The girl clutched a photo in her hand, the frame glistening with quiet tears. 

“I’m so sorry…”