I’m an old man and part of being an old man is that my daughter is now a grown, confident woman who is off beating law school into submission. I’m extremely proud of her and because of her age and maturity we now have conversations to solve the world’s problems and maybe a few of our own. That’s pretty neat.
But there is a part of being an old man that causes me to miss the days when she would giggle as I’d bounce her on my knee or carry her on my shoulders. Back then drawing meant scribbling with crayons and she was far better at it than me. That was also a time when we shared a common interest in stuffed animals. She was my excuse to buy them and she loved every one. The result is that we now have a literal mountain of them, each with memories attached to them.
I’ve started drawing some of them because, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, it rains here all the time so I need stuff to draw indoors and I’m tired of tomatoes. But what really drives me with this project is that as I draw these puddles of fluff and fur, memories of those early days fill me with joy. Here’s one I did of a little poupée (doll), one of many in the collection. For some reason she lacks a nose or mouth and I saw no reason to add them.