The toughest critic on you is yourself.
I love creating art. I think I make decent art things. But I’m also hard on myself and find all the flaws where I could have done better. What’s worse is I enjoy showing it off to people, but I don’t take compliments very well.
My art of choice varies on my moods and the seasons. I’ve always been crafty and creative. This time of year I enjoy carving pumpkins. I can’t wait to get my hands on some and let the creative juices flow! I’m also excited about showcasing my costume. I’m a bit worried that the more I talk about it, the less it will be amazing when I show it off.
I don’t want to show it off quite yet, but I also want some advice on a few parts of it. Argh. Silly brain isn’t being helpful. I’m sure people will tell me it looks good, but I want better than that!
Ack. Argh. Ugh. Just take the compliment Joe. It’ll be fine.
In the bottom drawer of my bureau there lies a couple of sweaters.
Underneath those sweaters- the drawer is filled with an abundance of hand made gifts given to me from my children over the years. I finally decided to show my treasures to them the other day. My kids had no idea I kept it all.
A few of these items had no names or dates on them. My kids ended up arguing over who gave me what. But even some of the ones that had their names on- they didn’t always remember making for me. The biggest surprise for me after showing them my collection, was the joy it brought to their faces. They lit up as if they were in preschool again, excited to be handing me a gift made with love by their tiny hands.
To me, these gifts are mementos of love. They are a story of how my children look up to me. Years later, saving these odds and ends shows my children that I cherish the time and effort they put into creating pieces of art. Every Father’s Day, every birthday, every life changing event- these small tokens given to me mean so much.
I don’t think my children know how much my heart cries as I watch them grow. They aren’t always going to remain innocent kids. They are growing up. Being able to look back and reminisce with a duct tape wallet or handmade pottery is invaluable to me.
Maybe in another ten to fifteen years, I shall open the drawer again and share my keepsakes with them once more. And as I do- I’ll see in their faces the youngsters they once were; looking back up at me as the father I once was.