You took the pencil in your right hand, between a bent middle finger and the curve of an index and thumb splayed like knees ready to place the line of graphite, the top of the sea lion supine on the wooden dock. You move along the contour of his form all one non- stop line. Then create the posts, the water and dock in simple, supple lines.
I find your way of representing your idea, your way of making those continuous lines amazing because I cannot do so, I never have had such a smooth connection between my minds eye and my hand.
Yesterday you told me that you have a terrible storm brewing in your head about Minecraft and think you better not play it anymore. I ask you about what the storming would say if it could talk. You told me that your step-mom hates Minecraft and for one half hour only on Wednesdays you love it. So you are arguing in your mind about what mommy thinks is a bad game and you are enjoying. Developing morals is hard work. Managing conflicting ideas takes trust, experimentation and problem solving doesn’t it? We talked about what mommy doesn’t like, what you like and wondered together how both of your ideas might share your mind at the same time. The storm, you told me could last for days, I hope not years, you said.
You are so reflective, find your own process as fascinating as I do, I observe while you feel it all. And tell me about it. You feel a punching fight, you tell me, in your middle, and it hurts too much to pay attention at school. I asked your if your teacher knows? You say no, but the storm fights are everywhere in the room. I ask how you know. You tell me that you get hot and hear the screech. I wonder how you can manage buddy! How?
You are on a waiting list for counseling. Daddy says that the man who you will talk to has a l st name Orion. I hope he will be good for you. You have to tell him what you tell me. Tell him about the storm. Draw it for him, my dear one. Draw every demon that haunts you. One line, one line. Whew.