She was a quiet girl who liked to sit in the middle of the room where no one looked too closely. Blending in felt safe—like a warm coat she could hide inside when the world got loud. Reading, however, was her secret storm; the letters danced, tangled, and refused to stay in place. She copied her friends, nodded along in class, hoping no one would notice how hard it was. One day, I assigned an essay. I knew her imagination could carry her places even a book couldn’t. And it did. She didn’t want to turn her essay in to me because we both knew there would be mistakes. I assured her I’d seen mistakes before and I wouldn’t mind as long as she’d tried her best. Her face lit up like a
Christmas tree. She HAD tried. And she had nailed it. I hope she’s writing still.
4” x 5”. Oil on 100% cotton paper.
She was a quiet girl who liked to sit in the middle of the room where no one looked too closely. Blending in felt safe—like a warm coat she could hide inside when the world got loud. Reading, however, was her secret storm; the letters danced, tangled, and refused to stay in place. She copied her friends, nodded along in class, hoping no one would notice how hard it was. One day, I assigned an essay. I knew her imagination could carry her places even a book couldn’t. And it did. She didn’t want to turn her essay in to me because we both knew there would be mistakes. I assured her I’d seen mistakes before and I wouldn’t mind as long as she’d tried her best. Her face lit up like a
Christmas tree. She HAD tried. And she had nailed it. I hope she’s writing still.
4” x 5”. Oil on 100% cotton paper.
