PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Since I was a little girl I remember the routine that my family had every single Sunday. I remember my mother waking me up and telling me to get ready. I remember that feeling of not wanting to take a shower and decide what clothes to put on. I remember the competition between my brother and I to get in the car first. I remember the street, the houses and the buildings I saw through the window glass. I remember the excitement my brother and me had before arriving to that special place. I remember the songs that my dad played in the car and how happy we all were in that moment. I remember the look of my grandfather when we finally arrived, the happiness in his eyes illuminating the love he had for his two twins. I remember every time I entered his studio the big drawing board that by that time it was just a really big table. He often showed me his drawings; they were in long pieces of paper I had never seen. I remember that when he showed me his drawings I only saw lines and numbers, I never understood what they really mean but the smile in his face when he was showing me his work was just amazing. I remember that time I was playing with my brother and he came along to teach us some techniques to draw better, the way he drew was as he was just writing, that ease and ability he had was unbelievable, it seemed so easy and simple but when we tried to do the same thing it just went ugly and messy. I remember every Christmas, when dinner was almost really, that missing spot in the head of the long dinner table. I remember the laughs of everyone because he was always missing in such important dates and we all knew where he was. I remember every instrument he had on top of that drawing board, rulers, pencils, erasers, papers and of course photos of us, I didn’t knew why he had so much types of rulers of different shapes and sizes but they were always there. I remember I knew that every time I went down the stairs to his studio I would always find him there, drawing, doing what he loves and always had loved. Now days when I get to the studio and see his drawing board I remember him, his writing, his smile, all the fun we had together and more importantly I realized how he really loved his job.