Twas a brisk day, mid Autumn, maybe late october. The trees were just beginning to turn colors and the air was becoming dry while a cool breeze, perhaps a nor'easter, was blowing through the piles of leaves that rustled in the yard. I was up in my study as I gazed out the window after a captivating episode of my favorite program at the time, “J.J. the Jet Plane.” I had also just put down a copy of “Froggy Goes to School” which I had discovered after a trip to the children's’ section in Barnes and Noble. I decided that I should try to get my creativity flowing at my new Little Tikes drawing table or as I prefered to call it, my workspace.
I laid out the paper on the table and then picked my favorite color crayon, light blue, which was the same color as the walls of my room. I believe that day I drew a portrait of a car that I had seen from the back seat of my mother’s SUV during our morning drive to pick up a few bagels from the market. I believe it was a blue car with four wheels and doors as well as a windshield and another four or five windows, all in which I had nearly perfectly recreated how I had described it. Good golly was I an artist. I felt restrained from the true capacities of my ability by the size of the paper which I had laid out for myself. That’s when I realized that the world was my canvas. Why stick to just an 8x12 inch piece of paper when I had an 8x12 ft wall right in front of me. My ideas and juices were flowing as I realized the potential that I could unleash with this new realization. I was ready to create the most brilliant work of art that the universe would ever see.
The art that I would come from the tip of my crayon would invoke all the emotions that a person could feel at once. The piece would make you cry and laugh and be angered all at once. Oh how ready I was to show the world just how good I was! I picked up my trusty, light blue, crayola crayon fresh from the table as it was ready to go back to work again. It was with this crayon I made the first mark on the wall, an elegant but very faint streak about three inches in length.
As I thought about where my next stroke would be placed to go on with my drawing, I began to realize just what I had done. I thought to myself, “I just drew on my wall!” and then I’m pretty sure I made a face that resembled Kevin McCallister’s from “Home Alone” when he realized that his family had left him. I began to panic and adrenaline rushed through my body as I became frozen with fear from what punishments might follow my horrible mistake. The guilt began to eat away at me. I began to hear the scraping of the crayon on the wall as if someone were still drawing.
I wasn’t strong enough to put up with the guilt that gnawed on my insides and made my stomach churn. I had to do something but what could I do? Maybe I could tell my parents that I accidentally dropped the crayon on the wall and it made a mark. But they would never buy that though; it was too unbelievable. I had to do something quick or else I would be shelled out by the guilt that was digging deep inside of me. I couldn’t do it anymore, I had given up.
I found myself running all the way downstairs to find my mom watching “Ellen Degeneres” on the television. I had to tell her. It just wasn’t possible to keep this horrible act from her anymore. I had to be forthright and tell her what I did before I was caught by law enforcement. Maybe if I pleaded guilty my sentence wouldn’t be as severe, if my mom was to ever tell the cops. “Mom! I drew on the wall!” I began to shed tears from my eyes because I knew that I was going straight to the big house.
My mom assured me that it was okay as I cried and pleaded for forgiveness. She got up from the couch and took my hand as we walked upstairs. She grabbed a paper towel with some water on it and wiped the crayon from the wall with one stroke. I realize now that this event that would bring the end of the world, was nothing but a faded memory. What seemed to be my downfall was nothing in my life. I learned that the best way to get out of trouble for doing something wrong, was to be honest and tell someone. This day was a test of my honesty and integrity, which was a character building moment.