Canvas

The late Spring sun pushed against my skin as the lazy breeze tickled my face. The sunlight danced on the red tile roof of our large two-story house, and the clear glass windows shone like diamonds. The sea of grass put on their shiny green dresses, each outshining the last as they reached up to the stretch of blue and white. I stood in front of the wooden fence with its new thick coat of white, under the proud army of trees and the protection of their large leaves. I watched as butterflies fluttered by, rising to hide under the wide wings of soaring birds. I laughed and squeezed the large hand that covered mine, turning my head excitedly as I shot one skinny finger into the sky, my small arm flailing as I broadcasted the fact that birds can fly. My gaze caught those of my mother, the sparkling seas of warmth that I always drowned in. Her dark eyes shone as she flashed a brilliant grin that matched mine, only with more teeth. I felt the warmth from her hands radiate through my body, her firm and comforting grip chaining to the security of her presence. Her songs of laughter rang in my ears as I echoed with my chirps.

I lifted my paintbrush after the last drop of color had settled, and carefully set it down on the floor next to me. I stood up and backed away from the canvas, to better study it from a distance. My tranquility was penetrated by the loud bang of the door and the protest of the floors. Loud, booming steps advanced in my direction, the basement door burst open and crashed into the wall. The woman stormed into the room, shouting words I no longer cared to comprehend. I simply stood motionlessly as my paintbrush splintered under her sandaled foot, and didn’t utter a word when an explosion of color splattered all over the room. Her foot fell heavily on the painting on the floor, smearing and crushing my dreams under her soles. I looked up at her, searching for my reflection in her cold dark eyes as they stared into mine.

“All you do is lock yourself up in this room all day! Drawing, painting! Wasting my money, wasting everything. Why can’t you understand? You never understood! Damned kid, why did that bastard have to leave you behind?”

I stood silently, staring up at her with empty eyes. I stood in the basement of this tiny house, with shingles falling off of its dark red roof, stained by years of wear, full of gaps and crude coverings of wood. The grime-covered windows acted as curtains, obscuring my view from the dried and shriveled up lumps spread out in front of the house; the splinters of wood that shot out of the ground in random places, the presumably white paint slowly peeling off; and the barricade of blackened tree stumps. She continued to scream, her shrieks violently lashing at my eardrums. Soon it all became a white noise. I’ve never understood, I don’t want to understand; but I’ve always known, and I always will know.

“Do you?”