The Light's Calling

Chapter 9

Today, I'd head out for the city. Mom gave me permission, and so I decided to go straight to downtown. I thought that today would give me an opportunity to see if I could get some sort of clue as to what my light was. I wished Destiny would just tell me, but I understood that I needed this to be a journey I had to do on my own.

My mom dropped me off on Lakeshore Drive, and I headed straight for this small restaurant my friends at school told me about. It was a local restaurant that had grown to earn its place as one of the top 10 eats in the Chicago Metro area.

The owner was an older woman who had taken over the restaurant after her brother passed away. She didn't care too much to be in the restaurant business, but she had a gift for cooking that no one could take away from her. It was empty, as I came right before the rush, so I wandered in just in time.

"Welcome" she greeted me from behind the counter, as she looked at me with her deep brown eyes that barely peered at me from under heavy eyelids.

She then called out to an older gentleman with a well-worn apron who then showed me to a table. I sat down at the table that I was directed to, and the woman came to take my order. As she took my order, she described in detail what each dish or dessert had in it, but I could see that this had become part of her routine. There was no spark of life or drive, just the everyday motions of when you do something over and over and over again.

I asked her about the restaurant and what she would recommend, but I was really hoping that she'd share a little more to help me figure out why she seemed so unhappy with being there. She quickly recommended the fish tacos and continued on to tell me that they were her favorite to prepare, and then I felt that I connected with her. She said that each taco was like a work of art with many layers of textures and colors. It sounded like an art, but not her art. As she described the tacos, I looked up at her and then looked around the room. The walls were covered in a continuous mural that wrapped itself around and cradled every corner of the room. There were thousands of tiny people painted on this mural. Some looked newer than others, and I wondered why, but I didn't want to ask, as I didn't want to seem like a nosey kid.

She continued on to tell me that this painting was inspired by her grandpa who started up this restaurant. Each little person in the painting represented a person whose light had been shared with her grandpa while they ate their meals in his restaurant.

"What do you mean?" I asked her as I reflected on how I had just become one of those people who asks the questions they already have the answer to.

"My grandpa says that this was not your typical restaurant in the early 1900s. He told us that it was a restaurant where many lights were revealed. It was filled with music, laughter, and gifts upon gifts that people gave to him after they discovered theirs."

"So, he painted this big picture on the wall?" I asked.

"No, I did." She proudly stated. "I started as a young girl, and grandpa told me that I could paint whatever I wanted. As a young girl, I was so fascinated by grandpa's stories of lights and gifts and such, so when he told me about the stories of the day, I would add a person for each story to the mural. There are 7,111 people painted on this mural." she said.

She asked if she could add me, but I told her that it wouldn't be fair because I didn't know what my gift was. She didn't care one bit, and she insisted on adding me to her art.

I accepted without really thinking about what it could mean to be on this wonderous wall, and as soon as she touched her brush, her hand lit up. I didn't say a word, as I didn't want to startle her, but I watched her carefully dip the brush in the dab of paint, apply it in a precise series of motions to create a small addition to the mural, and pull her hand back up to dab it again. Suddenly, after what seemed to be the 100th dab, it started to resemble me. It even had the red ribbon I wore in my hair, and the perfect shade of deep brown to match my complexion.

As she painted, I asked about her passion for painting, and the more I asked, the more I noticed what was happening. I started to glow, but once again, I was puzzled as to what was happening and why it was happening now. I'm not even the one painting.

The lady reached out her hand and said "I am Lina. May I hold your hand, dear?"

I put my hand out and she moved closer and whispered, "I see it, too, my dear."

I noticed that as she was painting me on the mural, she added the rose-colored shade to it on a very precise spot. It didn't make any sense because I wasn't doing anything. Then, my food arrived to interrupt our conversation, and Lina continued on to add the finishing touches to the small figure that resembled me within her painting. No one had ever painted me before, and I felt like I didn't deserve to be on that wall, but I also felt that with the way Lina insisted on putting me in the painting, there must be something more she knew.