Family
A young boy scribbled away on a piece of paper. A furious passion burned with every crayon he picked up and every marking he drew. He used a yellow for a bright sun and blue for the sky it shared. Some shades of various red colors for the backgrounds. Even a brand-new color created from a mixture of different colors to help his work stand out. His deep concentration forced his tongue out briefly. Once he finally finished, the young Michelangelo smiled as he gazed into his perfected masterpiece.
The bells rang all around the elementary school and all the children scurried out for the weekend. The boy walked outside, still smiling and staring at the beautiful artwork he made. Pride filled his heart as both eyes inspected every perfect detail of the drawing. This was meant for two special people in very young life and he couldn’t wait to show it to them. His pride corrupted into a panic when the drawing was snatched out of his hands.
Two other boys dangled his drawing before him. They mocked and harassed him before, but their intentions were much crueler this time. One of the bothersome bullies waved the drawing around like a ragged flag then started tearing it in half. Rage finally engulfed the boy as he tackled his harassers, slamming his fists in a blind fury against the bully’s face. He felt a firm grasp pinch his shoulder when a nearby teacher yanked them apart.
Over the next half hour, the boy sat alone in a chair just outside the principal’s office. His red knuckles and the bully’s bloodied nose earned him the principal’s generosity of a week’s worth of detention. Forced apologies from both parties weren’t enough to ease his crushed heart and stop his principal from calling someone familiar to him. The door opened, and a police officer stepped out. It was a woman with short blond hair, dressed in a typical black police uniform, exited out of the principal’s office and shook his hand after their conversation. She escorted the boy out of the school and into the back of her police car.
Not one word was uttered during the ride. The boy averted his eyes down. The officer focused her scowl at the street. It wasn’t the first time she was called into the school from a similar incident, after all the conversations they had about never using violence to solve a problem. She sensed that she would have to remind him of this lesson yet again, only to likely be ignored next time. When she investigated the rear-view mirror, her anger eased into sympathy. As she continued to stare into the mirror, her heart ached when she saw her son gazing down at the torn halves of his once beautiful drawing. Tears rolled down from his eyes when his hard, creative work was merely shattered due to another example of life’s cruelties.
The police car halted at the curb of the sidewalk, and the officer exited her vehicle, slowly marching around to the door where her son sat. The boy stared up at his mother when the car door opened. His heart became heavier, the thoughts of another harsh scolding felt unbearable. Not this time. There was no scolding, no yelling, or any harsh words at all. All he received was a large hug that reminded him that the world wasn’t all bad. The boy wrapped his small arms around his mother’s neck and squeezed back, and the tears poured even faster. All those hurtful words and those bullies had said to him, and all what they had done to his drawing expelled away from his thoughts the longer him and his mother hugged.
Another ride down the street led the pair to a local ice cream parlor. They walked inside only to be surprised by the sight of a girl, who was a dear friend of the boy, and her mother standing in line for treats. The girl and her mother waved to the boy and his mother, asking them to share a table. All four laughed and talked and enjoyed their delicious frozen treats. When it was time for them to depart, the girl gave the boy a gift; it was his drawing now taped back together. She presented the drawing back to him and planted a small kiss on the boy’s cheek, much to the boy’s delight as he smiled and blushed bright red. Both moms smiled at the cute little couple then reminded them that they had to go home. After saying their goodbyes, both families walked back to the cars and departed for home.
Dinner was fast approaching as the sun was setting on a small house. Inside was a woman with long red hair, dressed in a light green sweater, and wore a brown, hand-stitched beret, who was setting a series of porcelain plates on the dining table. She looked up and smiled at her decorated wall of photographs of her family. A skilled photographer, she captured every moment of their lives from cookouts with their friends and families to birthday parties and holiday events, all preserved in small, square, wooden time capsules.
She heard the front door open and the announcement of the arrival of her wife and son.
The officer and the boy to walk into the dining room where the second woman waited patiently. The two women greeted each other with a light hug and a quick kiss on their lips. The boy gave his second mom a large hug to which she gave the same response to her young son. He then raised his precious drawing before their faces, excited to show off what he drew.
Both mothers smiled and teared up when they happily examined their child’s masterpiece: the three of them holding hands and smiling together with large words in the background that stated:
I LOVE MY AWESOME MOMS
“You don’t choose your family. They are God’s gift to you, as you are to them.”
-Desmond Tutu