Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
I own that look by onpatrol I own that look by onpatrol
I drew the picture with charcoal and my partner wrote about it. [link]

I own that look of intense concentration. Once, like you, it was caught up in making the biggest impression possible, saying to the world “Look! Look what I can do!” These days it is more about making a steady flow of tiny bubbles, having a more subtle effect on the environment around me. Seeing my own eagerness on your heart shaped face is challenging and familiar - wanting to protect you from the knocks I know I felt, that I know you may well experience but there is envy in me too. It is for that time when life was about blowing the biggest bubble, feeling that life was an adventure waiting to happen. Though I have more knowledge and insight than you could possibly possess at this moment in time doesn’t detract from the fact that the world is still your oyster; that you have so much yet to laugh at, to treasure and discover is a thing of equal parts wonder and jealousy for me. I have pangs for the time when life was full of simple, unworldly delights - reading a book cover to cover in the span of a summer’s afternoon, climbing a tree to survey my world, plucking the seed pod of a weed to watch the tiny seeds ooze out, paddling in a waterway, safe in the knowledge that someone older would come and rescue me if the going got too treacherous…

You are not grown enough yet to become the brilliant butterfly I do not doubt you will become. You are still a caterpillar in many respects, absorbing what you can, growing, always growing. You will undoubtedly become guarded and closed, like a chrysalis cocooned in a world of your own making before unfurling what will truly be kaleidoscopic wings and flying off into the great unknown. I have spent great swathes of time it seems, staring into the flame of a fire or a candle; wondering what you will become, how many marks you will make on the world, whether your bubbles will be burst as so many are or whether, like breath on a dandelion clock you will scatter the dreams you have far and wide - more chance of one taking root that way. You has yet to see that sometimes blowing more gently and with more control is oftentimes more effective, that too big a puff of air will result in nothing more than soap slick on warm skin. But the pull of creating the biggest bubble is like childhood itself - seeing how far you can push at the fabric of the ethereal mixture before it gives, before it can not hold its shape is a joy in itself.

Looking forward at what may come is irresistibly coupled with looking back…I know that worrying you will push too hard is linked unavoidably with how my childhood played out and the events which shaped me. I found my own balance between a whispering breath and an almighty bellow, but it took some time. You, unlike me, are not in competition with siblings or incessantly being told to try harder, that you need to do better…well, certainly not in the negative and excessive ways I was. I try to cup you gently in my hands, but I’m aware that sometimes I grab at you to stop you floating away on a whim and I wonder what effect this will have. Sometimes I witness you drift from me even as we sit in the same room together, into a kingdom of your own, peopled by dinosaurs, spiders and talking toys. When we clash against each other, our twin iron wills grinding against each other like cogs in a machine out of control, you remain inextricably mine, something I co-created, grown and nurtured. You are a sturdy sapling, the wind bowing your limbs but not breaking you.

The dichotomy is that you are at once is mine and your very own. You are capable of so very much and so incredibly little. Possibility is such a gift…I see it in you every day. I remember the times of celebration and praise from my own past and try to create similar memories that you may one autumn in the future fire gaze over. But in truth I can not dictate what or how you remember, nor what you hold dear or what becomes of you. I can show you a path through the maze, but I can not make you take it – you will find a path you prefer, I think. The things I would like for you, shimmering like a candle flame or a mirage on some far horizon my not be what you need or desire. I can squeeze you tight and praise what I see as commendable acts or worthy creations in whatever way I see fit, it doesn’t equate to the way you look through your immense heavy lashed eyes at the world…I can not make you anything, you are of your own making and doing.

We walk hand in hand, or oftentimes you stride out ahead, arms swinging like a demented tin soldier. We talk. You ask questions, sometimes satisfied with the answers I give, sometimes not content with the observations or statements I have for you. Occasionally I can’t answer what you ask of me at all. I see this as how we will continue; companionable, conversing but not always sharing the same world view. Like two bubbles from the same mixture, close but not always touching, on their own trajectories but never further apart than an extended arm or an outstretched hand.
SER1 Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2011  Professional General Artist
impressive hand skills...
onpatrol Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2011
Thank you very much.
Add a Comment:


Submitted on
October 8, 2011
Image Size
4.8 MB