I was annoyed by this drawing, especially when Mom taped it to the fridge, high enough so I couldn’t tear it down. It was the first work of art you ever made, this drawing of the four of us, me, you, Mom, and Dad. You were six at the time, I was eight. We were drawn with simple stick figures and even then, you somehow managed to insult me.
Mom’s hair was long and luscious. Emphasized by a sharpie. Dad’s was neat, short, buzz cut evident. Yours was curly and pretty. And my hair, was just a straight line scribbled onto a disproportionate face with an ugly scowl.
The drawing was clearly made by an amateur, with the messy scribble and the lack of hands and feet and human features in general. The sun in the background was purple and the grass was blue, but still, you kept it.
I didn’t understand why you kept it, why out of all the beautiful works of art you’ve masterfully achieved that I watched you shred, trash, rip apart, or light on fire, this was the one that survived. I now understand that this drawing represented the only time in your life that was perfect for us, whereas every other work reflected a period of time full of broken relationships and tragedy, this snapshot of our youth with our perfect simple figures and perfect relationships was the standard of your life that you could never live up to. But I hope you realize that being perfect isn’t the goal and that all the other art you destroyed was beautiful the way they were. I want you to realize that it’s okay to show yourself or our family as imperfect, that you can still appreciate the past that was flawed even if there was a time when all seemed good.
I know you’ll continue to make artwork, whether times are better or worse, and I know you’ll continue to destroy them even if you think they’re beautiful. I just hope that eventually, your talent, your goodness, and the beauty of your art will triumph over your insecurities and anger, and that you’ll someday see yourself the way I do, as my talented and expressive little sister. And to all the artists here, whether you create memoirs, poems, stories, songs, drawings, or paintings, know that your works will never be perfect, but they’ll always be beautiful.