The Other On My Heart

When I was younger, my sister and I used to compete in everything. Even though I knew I was 4 years older than she is, it always made me feel better than I could do things better than she could. I could run faster, I could write better, I could do harder math problems, I could sleep later. Almost everything. Except draw.

You guessed it, I can't draw to save my life. Well, maybe there was a particular time when all she drew was scribbles and she couldn't colour in the lines but when she grew older, I became jealous.

During the time when all I knew about genetics is "a bit of mummy and a bit of daddy = you", I wondered where she got her creative side. It was annoying that she could not only draw, she could colour and produce different hues, do arts and crafts- practically creating something out of nothing but a piece of paper and some coloured pens.

When she grew much older, she took notes with more colour and little doodles at the side. I hated looking at her notes because it was always nicer and better. The doodles were doodles to her but to me, it was a masterpiece.

There was once when we were slightly younger, I challenged her to a little competition. I thought I could draw better than she did and we started to draw. Armed with a 2B pencil, I started to draw the outline of an elephant- with its trunk majestically raised to the sky, large floppy ears. I was very proud of my drawing. I peeked at my sister sprawled on the floor busy drawing and SHADING a picture of a cat. It didn't look like one of those sketches but it was definitely a cat. With long whiskers, big eyes and a stripped body; there's no mistaking it for anything else but a cat.

Suddenly mum walked into the room. She saw us drawing quietly and peeked at our drawings. "That's a very beautiful cat", she commented at my sister's artwork. I eagerly showed her mine.

"It's a giraffe right?"

I've learned my lesson. There are some things I can do, and some I can't. And that would be drawing.

Signing out,
sir-talkalot