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I was born under my grandmother's dining room table. I was five years old and I had been given several sheets of my grandfather's typewriter paper a pencil and a box of crayons. It was raining, school was out and both my mother and grandmother were tired of the noise my two sisters and I were making. We were told it was time to be quiet! My sisters quickly disappeared to the basement where loud talking, shouts and "gymnastic activities" wouldn't end up with a stick whipping! I sought refuge under the table, a good place to sit and catch morsels of gossip that floated down from my mother and grandmother's conversation. After a few minutes of eavesdropping I asked my mother for paper. She got up from her chair and I watched the tan colored shoes she wore head towards the bedroom she shared with her three girls. The shoes came back again and stopped at my grandfather's typing table, where his big black cast iron typewriter sat. Mommy bent down and handed me the paper, a chewed up pencil and a box of my sister's school crayons. I rubbed my hand over the smooth cream colored paper. I sniffed the crayons, liking the way they smelled. I chewed the pencil some more while I thought about what I would draw. I put the pencil to the paper and that's when something wonderful began to happen!
I was born under my grandmother's dining room table. I was five years old and I had been given several sheets of my grandfather's typewriter paper a pencil and a box of crayons. It was raining, school was out and both my mother and grandmother were tired of the noise my two sisters and I were making. We were told it was time to be quiet! My sisters quickly disappeared to the basement where loud talking, shouts and "gymnastic activities" wouldn't end up with a stick whipping! I sought refuge under the table, a good place to sit and catch morsels of gossip that floated down from my mother and grandmother's conversation. After a few minutes of eavesdropping I asked my mother for paper. She got up from her chair and I watched the tan colored shoes she wore head towards the bedroom she shared with her three girls. The shoes came back again and stopped at my grandfather's typing table, where his big black cast iron typewriter sat. Mommy bent down and handed me the paper, a chewed up pencil and a box of my sister's school crayons. I rubbed my hand over the smooth cream colored paper. I sniffed the crayons, liking the way they smelled. I chewed the pencil some more while I thought about what I would draw. I put the pencil to the paper and that's when something wonderful began to happen!
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