Thank You for the Zebra

I hand my baby boy his sister’s tiny toy zebra when he walks, Frankenstein’s monster-like, toward me.

“Ahng-oo,” he said, unprompted, for the first time ever.

I pray my own gratitude pours out that way, unprompted, in whatever language I can muster, as if for the first time ever, not because etiquette requires me to do so, but because in my humility I am truly grateful.

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Splashing the Canvas

I took Beginning Drawing in college.  Our professor told us to go outside, choose a stick from the ground, dip it in the ink well, and draw.  To help us get past that nauseating, anxiety-ridden feeling of messing up a clean, pure white canvas with mistakes, he suggested we flick some ink on it right away and get it over with.

This is my ink spot.