Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
–
"Do you like it?" Sara asked, shoving her artwork at Winona's chest. "I think I used too much blue."
The older girl swiped it from her fingers and let out a brief chuckle. She twisted the drawing to face her. It seemed to be a butterfly, the wings an overwhelming multitude of blue shades and the body plain black. "It's beautiful. I think I have a new favorite artist."
Each time she complimented a piece of her artwork, her smile grew larger than ever. "You should keep it!"
"I think I should." Winona tilted the drawing and grinned. "You know where I'm gonna put this? Right above my bed so that when I go to sleep at night it'll be the last and first thing I see. Has anybody ever told you what the butterfly symbolizes?"
Sara parted her lips and slowly shook her head.
"In my grandmother's religion, and mine, it's a symbol for our soul." Winona spun the drawing around so Sara could look at it. "And I think that's beautiful."
"Really?" She straightened in her seat.
"Mhm. In fact, I had a stain glass one hanging right above my bed where I came from. My grandma gave it to me as a gift for my fifteenth birthday."
"How old are you?" Sara dropped her cheek into her palm.
"Twenty-one."
"You're old!" She scrunched her nose and let out a high-pitched laughter.
"Hey, I have years on you, brat." Winona flicked the girl's arm and she flinched away with a snort. "Maybe you're just young, ever thought about that?"
"No. I'm almost a teenager."
"You still have years to go, little girl."
"Only six," she muttered. She puckered her lips and made the sound of a fish, picking up a few crayons and scribbling on a page. "I want to meet her. The one that gave you the butterfly."
"My grandmother?" Winona raised her brows.
"Mhm."
"Maybe someday, honey." She rubbed her hand down Sara's matted head and gave a reassuring smile. "I think she'd love to meet you too." The young girl raised her head and smiled proudly. Winona flicked under her chin and grinned, peering over her shoulder to see what she was drawing. It seemed to be a messily done portrait.
"Dad." She perked up. "It's his birthday next week. I put it on the calendar."
"Is this his present?"
"Mhm. He likes my drawings. He said I was his favorite artist, just like you. And also he said he likes you, he said you're nice."
"Is that so?" Winona smiled and tousled her hair. "You can tell him I think he's a pretty nice guy too."
