A Painting To A Younger Self
II’ve always wished to sit down with my 10-year-old self and have a conversation. I think I’d learn as much from her as she would from me. I’d tell her to keep daydreaming. And remind her that if anyone says she’s too sensitive, to brush them off and know it’s a strength. I’d tell her to never loose sight of her imaginative curiosity.
We’d talk about Bridge to Terebithia and her crush at school while we eat Oreos. She’d show me her fort down by the lake and take me out to the barn to visit Odie the goat. I’d tell her I can still talk to goats and do the goat noise. She’d tell me she’s excited for middle school but nervous to ride the bus for the first time. We’d run around Buckland Road thinking of who we could ding dong ditch next. Or where the next poison ivy picnic with my sister would be.
She’d tell me she’d rather be an ice skater than a soccer player with cleats. I’d tell her that one day she would study and teach English, even though reading and spelling is difficult. I don’t think she would believe me! I’d tell her that she would be an artist and is about to have her first gallery show. I think she would believe me. All the time spent in the art room and at Mom’s pottery studio paid off.
I would tell her to not rush growing up. To stay young, careless, and wild. To keep doing her strange accents, noises, and writing sweet letters to her loved ones. “Don’t be too serious.” She’d tell me she always wanted to stay a kid anyway. And I’d tell her that feeling hasn’t gone away just yet. To little Grayson, you’re doing just fine… keep going :)
A painting of us looking back at each other once she reaches my age now—24. Doodles, colors, imagination, child-like expression, not too serious. I wanted it to feel like we created it together—me and my 10 year old self.
II’ve always wished to sit down with my 10-year-old self and have a conversation. I think I’d learn as much from her as she would from me. I’d tell her to keep daydreaming. And remind her that if anyone says she’s too sensitive, to brush them off and know it’s a strength. I’d tell her to never loose sight of her imaginative curiosity.
We’d talk about Bridge to Terebithia and her crush at school while we eat Oreos. She’d show me her fort down by the lake and take me out to the barn to visit Odie the goat. I’d tell her I can still talk to goats and do the goat noise. She’d tell me she’s excited for middle school but nervous to ride the bus for the first time. We’d run around Buckland Road thinking of who we could ding dong ditch next. Or where the next poison ivy picnic with my sister would be.
She’d tell me she’d rather be an ice skater than a soccer player with cleats. I’d tell her that one day she would study and teach English, even though reading and spelling is difficult. I don’t think she would believe me! I’d tell her that she would be an artist and is about to have her first gallery show. I think she would believe me. All the time spent in the art room and at Mom’s pottery studio paid off.
I would tell her to not rush growing up. To stay young, careless, and wild. To keep doing her strange accents, noises, and writing sweet letters to her loved ones. “Don’t be too serious.” She’d tell me she always wanted to stay a kid anyway. And I’d tell her that feeling hasn’t gone away just yet. To little Grayson, you’re doing just fine… keep going :)
A painting of us looking back at each other once she reaches my age now—24. Doodles, colors, imagination, child-like expression, not too serious. I wanted it to feel like we created it together—me and my 10 year old self.
II’ve always wished to sit down with my 10-year-old self and have a conversation. I think I’d learn as much from her as she would from me. I’d tell her to keep daydreaming. And remind her that if anyone says she’s too sensitive, to brush them off and know it’s a strength. I’d tell her to never loose sight of her imaginative curiosity.
We’d talk about Bridge to Terebithia and her crush at school while we eat Oreos. She’d show me her fort down by the lake and take me out to the barn to visit Odie the goat. I’d tell her I can still talk to goats and do the goat noise. She’d tell me she’s excited for middle school but nervous to ride the bus for the first time. We’d run around Buckland Road thinking of who we could ding dong ditch next. Or where the next poison ivy picnic with my sister would be.
She’d tell me she’d rather be an ice skater than a soccer player with cleats. I’d tell her that one day she would study and teach English, even though reading and spelling is difficult. I don’t think she would believe me! I’d tell her that she would be an artist and is about to have her first gallery show. I think she would believe me. All the time spent in the art room and at Mom’s pottery studio paid off.
I would tell her to not rush growing up. To stay young, careless, and wild. To keep doing her strange accents, noises, and writing sweet letters to her loved ones. “Don’t be too serious.” She’d tell me she always wanted to stay a kid anyway. And I’d tell her that feeling hasn’t gone away just yet. To little Grayson, you’re doing just fine… keep going :)
A painting of us looking back at each other once she reaches my age now—24. Doodles, colors, imagination, child-like expression, not too serious. I wanted it to feel like we created it together—me and my 10 year old self.