Day 158 of 365-Pt.2: The Porthole
I’ve looked at this little creation the boy child had brought home from school for weeks now, trying to figure out just what it was I was going to do with it. He was so proud of it when he brought it home and showed it to me. And to be perfectly honest I was pretty damn proud of it too. Proud, no. I was beaming. A good ole fashion “That’s ma’ boy” moment. That’s some darn good work. I didn’t just take a look at it…I got lost in it. What a fabulous creation. Sort of like “here is where imagination comes alive”. He explained to me as I looked at it, how each color, fish and texture represented something.
I’m not going to tell you what it all meant. It was his little world. His imagination is vast, limitless, thirsty and much like his daddy’s. The rest in between…That’s between me and the boy. After a few moments of soaking all of it in, and glowing like I’ve never glowed before I’d finally asked,
“Bubba. This is off the hook. Would you mind if I used this for one of my pictures?”
He answered with a grin and a jiggle of his head that would have sent my brain spilling out through my tear ducts….I kind of took that as a yes.
The end result that night has ever since eluded me. And up until this evening I really wasn’t sure what I could do with it, without destroying it. Then an idea came to me. And I consulted the master. He, the mighty god of war. He looked over my work, and gave his approval with a grin and a hug. He liked the idea and I ran with it….The end result…
…Not my creation. Our creation. Something we’ve spent a lot of time working on. When I decided what I was going to do with it, he had a part in it all the way to the end. He even over saw the selfies, and the layering. I didn’t save anything without his approval…Or at least until he zonked out on the couch listening to the Wallflowers.
The title on his birth certificate garnered him as Marcus. To many of his peers and most of his elders, he is simply Marc. To a select few he is addressed to as “Bubba guy”. And to a very, very select few. We get to refer to him as son…And I am so proud that I can call him that.
Saturday, June 5th. 2010
Day 158 of 365-Pt.2: The Porthole
I’ve looked at this little creation the boy child had brought home from school for weeks now, trying to figure out just what it was I was going to do with it. He was so proud of it when he brought it home and showed it to me. And to be perfectly honest I was pretty damn proud of it too. Proud, no. I was beaming. A good ole fashion “That’s ma’ boy” moment. That’s some darn good work. I didn’t just take a look at it…I got lost in it. What a fabulous creation. Sort of like “here is where imagination comes alive”. He explained to me as I looked at it, how each color, fish and texture represented something.
I’m not going to tell you what it all meant. It was his little world. His imagination is vast, limitless, thirsty and much like his daddy’s. The rest in between…That’s between me and the boy. After a few moments of soaking all of it in, and glowing like I’ve never glowed before I’d finally asked,
“Bubba. This is off the hook. Would you mind if I used this for one of my pictures?”
He answered with a grin and a jiggle of his head that would have sent my brain spilling out through my tear ducts….I kind of took that as a yes.
The end result that night has ever since eluded me. And up until this evening I really wasn’t sure what I could do with it, without destroying it. Then an idea came to me. And I consulted the master. He, the mighty god of war. He looked over my work, and gave his approval with a grin and a hug. He liked the idea and I ran with it….The end result…
…Not my creation. Our creation. Something we’ve spent a lot of time working on. When I decided what I was going to do with it, he had a part in it all the way to the end. He even over saw the selfies, and the layering. I didn’t save anything without his approval…Or at least until he zonked out on the couch listening to the Wallflowers.
The title on his birth certificate garnered him as Marcus. To many of his peers and most of his elders, he is simply Marc. To a select few he is addressed to as “Bubba guy”. And to a very, very select few. We get to refer to him as son…And I am so proud that I can call him that.
Saturday, June 5th. 2010