Dusting Off an Old Love

As a child, I entered every art contest imaginable and, when I went to college, I seriously considered majoring in studio art. After my first year of college, however, I set aside my pencils and charcoal and focused on other pursuits.

This past weekend, we went to Vermont and, as the weather was miserable, we spent most of our days indoors. One afternoon, my nephew and sister-in-law were doing arts and crafts; I decided to join them and picked up a pencil to draw a train for him.

The train transported me to a different time—I was in college, sitting in my favorite art studio during the afternoon (when the light was the most beautiful). I had forgotten just how much I loved to draw.

One of the things I love about being surrounded by small children is that they remind you of who you used to be before you became an adult. They allow you to enjoy the simple things that gave you so much joy—whether it be in a cartwheel, eating just the frosting off of a cupcake, rediscovering your, at-one-time, favorite book. This weekend, my nephew reminded me that art used to transport me, and showed me that it still does.