Sitting among the tall weeds along the train tracks drawing the biggest grasshopper, the most royal I'd ever seen. I wondered what the black tar-like spit was that comes with his smile. Not till I drew this little creature did I really look at a grasshopper. Resting on my leg, he must have wondered why I was sitting on the hot rail just looking at him. The weeds were filled with grasshoppers. Mine seemed to be the biggest and very keen to know me. His legs were long and his knees faced the wrong way. The others around me were smaller and didn't stay on any one weed for very long. A king he was. He couldn't tell me his name, still I knew he understood me as I told him things.
A car horn and my name being called from across the field. My grasshopper was going to have to find a new friend. It was my Grandpa calling from his car, wanting me to come with him to St. Joe's Cemetery. Grandma's headstone was put in and flowers were needed to make her happy. On the floor in the back were geraniums and violets to be planted around the headstone. I wasn't much of a talker when I was a kid and neither was Grandpa. He did recognize my drawing as a grasshopper. I liked it when people recognized the things I drew. He spent some time looking at my drawings, asking if I were going to be an artist, handing my sketchbook back to me. We rode up Route 25 in silence, his car smelled of machine oil and paint. I wasn't big enough to see out the window, only the electric lines and tree branches as we passed under them were visible. The iron arch of the gate meant we were there. Passing the grotto with its statue of St. Joseph, we rolled to a stop. Grandpa was ever so quiet getting the flowers out from the backseat. Pointing out a fox watching us, he handed me my sketchbook from the car with a smile. Before I found a blank page the fox, bored with us moved on.
Trowel in hand, I made small holes for the violets and geranium. Paintings for me are of those treasured moments in my life, portraits of shared experiences with wisdom from the past and dreams for the future. A pregnant model or a weathered face inspires me as I understand life with colors and lines.
