Magenta

In the stack of papers Tucker brought home from preschool today, I found a little painting on cardstock. A 6-inch square, it is covered in broad strokes of magenta paint. And on the bottom in his teacher's perfect handwriting: Tucker.I sorted through the papers... a birthday invitation, a Weekly Reader, a Scholastic book order, some stickers, and the painting.

Absently, I tossed them in the trash, keeping only the birthday invitation so we can choose whether to RSVP.

We finished our lunch, took a trip to the park with scooters and bikes, and settled in for naps. All in all, it was relatively uneventful but certainly worthy of rest.I decided to give the first thirty minutes to myself, and I sat down to read.

That's when I found this quote:

"The knowledge of impermanence that haunts our days is their very fragrance." - Rilke

I thought about the little moments of today...
Tyler is in his second "dry day" in big boy underwear...
Tucker hopped off his bike to help Tyler on his scooter...
they argued over who could hold the toy clock in the car...
Tyler asked me to take off my sunglasses so he could kiss my eye...
Tucker learned the phrase, "Nice one..."
Tucker wiped his nose on my cheek...
Tyler built a snowman with PlayDoh...
and that magenta painting.

Immediately, I went straight to the kitchen and fished through the trash, in search of the piece of art. I found it: safely protected between the Weekly Reader and Scholastic book order.

I'm framing it.

It will hang in my office for a lifetime to come, inspiring me to write, remember, be present, and enjoy. I suspect his fondness will vary, as he will someday be embarrassed that he chose to paint in a shade of pink, but someday he'll show somebody what he made when he was four years old.
I captured one piece of today's impermanence, and it will forever hang on my wall.

In broad strokes of magenta.