It was a normal Sunday and just like any other weekend, Erica was cuddling with me on the couch facing the television, a serial going on but none of us were occupied in watching it. Erica being too quiet and me observing her, like I always do whenever she's around.
"What are you even thinking about so deeply?" the question seemed to snap her out of her thoughts. She looks up at me, smiling.
"I was wondering what you would rather do than be in a dingy hardware shop whiling away your time"
"Oh! Got any ideas for me to follow?" I ask, not concealing the amusement seeping into my tone.
"Many.....but I doubt you would like them"
"Go on tell me. I might even take up a liking to one of them"
"Baby sitting?"
"Oh! No no no no......that's not really quite what I'm interested in"
"What!! Babies are so cute!! And I can totally imagine you being all cute and soft to entertain it"
"And whiny...but I can imagine myself taking care of kids, probably ours but yeah...." I spoke up earning a hard punch to my chest, not that it hurt.
"Owww!!" I mocked her further "you hit pretty hard. There might be a bruise developing at the spot"
"Shut up...you grumpy cat" she frowned, before her face lit up into a wide smile.
"How about a rapper?"
"Huh!"
"I can totally see you being a rapper and throwing out syllables, breaking records. You're good with your words. You would totally rock the stage if you tried" she carried on with a faraway look in her eyes.
"Mhmm.......that might be a good suggestion. I've always had a thing for music" I smiled at her.
"What about you? What do you want to pursue after finishing high school?"
"Ummmmm.......I don't exactly think about it. I've just thought about the university I want to get into. You know the one near my coffee shop?"
"You mean the one facing my store at the corner of the opposite street?"
"Yes...that one"
"Mmhmm good. I'll be able to see you every day....what course?"
"Probably designing"
"Oh wow! You're into designing?"
"Yeah...why?" she looks up at me, a confused frown decorating her face making her look even cuter than she already is.
"My mom loved to draw and paint. Want to see her room?"
"I'm fine. I think it's something that you should decide"
"I've said it before and I'll say it again" I sighed "I want to let you know me and I'll do everything I can to let that happen" With that said, I got up from the couch, shut the television off, took her hand in mine and stood her up. Leading her to mom and dad's room, I opened the closed doors and immediately see her mouth dropping, an expression of awe planted on her face. She walked further into the room, exploring and observing the pictures. She stopped in front of one particular frame, her hand lingering over it, hesitating to touch it. I go over to stand behind her.
"Caught your eye?" I whisper in her ear.
"It's beautiful. The scenery, it's so real. It feels real. Almost like it's calling me"
"It's a picture" I say much louder than her soft voice, not understanding why she is so attached to the painting, just like mom "I don't understand what can possibly be so eye-catching in a sea so peaceful"
"Nothing is" she said "nothing is eye-catching unless you look for it" still looking at the picture. I could see the bright spark in her eyes, speaking volumes of her interest in art.
"Mhmm....tell me what you see" I back hug her, wrapping her up in my arms, resting my head on her shoulder.
"I see a storm, the rage, a beauty of nature. It's so calm yet it depicts anger. The different shades of blue just enhance the calmness, the serenity whereas the black sits as a perfect contrast to it. The black depicts the darkness looming over everyone on board of that lone ship, about to succumb to the forces of nature. Isn't it ironical that this picture somehow aptly describes the reality of the nature of life?"
"I am jealous of you" she looks to the side to face me with a questioning look, urging me to continue "you can see so much in a simple painting and here I am unable to decipher for years why my mom loved it so much"
"Painters create works that relate to them, some way or another. It's pretty easy to guess the backstory of a painting from the colours, but one probably won't be able to connect to it emotionally, at least not as well as the creator of the art"
"Did she have any favourites?" she questions.
"Yes. She did. This one" I point her to a picture that hung right in the middle of the wall, in the centre of all the other frames, right in front of her bed.
"She said she had painted that one when she was pregnant with me"
"I can probably understand why it was her favourite"
"Oh please.....tell me. She would always want to wake up and look at it the first thing in the morning" I groan.
"That's because she saw you in the kid that's playing in the garden, might've pictured it as her child when she made it. The smile on his face as he runs around chasing a butterfly, wishing to fly like it. She must've really loved you" she turns to me, noticing the slightly dampness near the rim of my eyes.
"And you miss her just as much. I'm so sorry" she says as she turns around and wraps her hands around me, resting her head on my chest.
"She did, she always did" I said "but this is nothing you should be sorry about"
"Hmmm......so this makes me wonder......what is your favourite colour?" she asks, clearly wishing to change the sensitive topic and I oblige.
"I don't know....black maybe? Black like my soul..." I trail off with a laughter.
"Your soul's white. It's pure. And it's probably one of the many reasons I like you. Please promise you'll never taint it" the seriousness in her voice put a stop to my laughter.
"I've done pretty messed up things, dealed in drugs and all. I don't think that would be pure"
"You had your reasons"
"Okay, I won't. I promise" and she breaks out in a smile.
"Art is something that makes you breathe with a different kind of happiness" – Anni Albers.
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A/N : Hello! Thank you for reading.....Hope you like it :)
