Crayon on the Carpet

A man deals with his mental issues in his own special way.

 

“Wake up, you lazy fool! Are you getting up now?” The voice of a grandmotherly woman echoes through my head. I roll over and stare at the ceiling, the sunlight creating bars of light above me through the blinds. A child laughs distantly as I stare at the dancing light on the ceiling, hoping it will be a warm day.

            “Get out of bed this instant!” the elderly woman calls as I lay motionless. “You need to eat, you look too thin!”

            I sigh heavily at the beginning of another day and toss away the sheets. The air in the room is cold. “Open the blinds, it’s so beautiful today,” a now younger woman speaks gently. “I was already outside this morning, and the sunrise was absolutely beautiful. I’m so sad you missed it, James.”

            I pull the blinds wide open and stare into the blue sky. She was right: it is a beautiful day; the first warm day of the season.

            “The trees are starting to bud already,” a young girl states. “It’s supposed to be even warmer by the end of the week.”

            “Is that right?” I mumble quietly.

            “Will you get downstairs and eat something?” I squint at the sound. She insists on being loud. I shake my head and move downstairs to shut her up. I grab an old donut and a glass of milk. She grunts quietly in disapproval. I look at the refrigerator filled with a child’s drawings. “Which one is your favorite?” A young boy asks me. I observe them all for a moment and point to one in the center.

            “That one,” I say. He giggles loudly.

            “That’s the one I drew of you!” He states loudly.

            “I know it is,” I say to him. “It looks just like me.” He giggles again.

“Come outside with me, James,” the young woman says to me. “It’s so beautiful today. Sit out on the porch with me.” I walk outside and take a seat at the table.

            The instant heat of the sun felt comforting. She talks to me about flowers, spring, and other feminine things. I act interested. She likes it when I do.

            “Come play inside with me, James!” The little boy breaks through with a loud, comical tone. “I want to draw another picture for you!”

            I walk through the door and I hear a giggle coming from the living room. He plays hide and seek but I never find him.

            “I can’t reach the paper and I can’t find my crayons James. Can you reach them for me?” he asks innocently. I reach for the paper. I find the crayons. I sit on the floor like a child would do.

            “Don’t get crayon on the carpet!” A voice calls from the kitchen.

            A pink bird with a blue beak and an orange tree in the background. This is what he draws for me. I put it up on the refrigerator with his other drawings and he giggles happily.

            “What did he draw for you this time?” An immediate voice from behind me catches my attention. I turn to see my sister standing there, smiling like always. She walks up to the refrigerator and observes it.

            “A pink bird with a blue beak. Very original.” She looks at me and smiles brightly. I smile back.

            “Off to work I go,” she says with a sigh, and I nod slightly.

            “Did you take your medicine?” she asks.

            I shake my head.

            She leans in, the smile still spread across her face.

            “Don’t.” she says. “Have fun before the world stops you.”

            “Come on James, I want to draw another picture for you, okay?” The little boy chimes in once more.

            “I have to go,” I say to her. “He wants to draw another picture.”

            “Okay,” she says. “Try not to get crayon on the carpet.”

 

 

  

Reviews

[Shaun Hardy]

This view is exactly what we need!

I believe you have captured a really great idea with this story....

excuse me while I choke on this cookie
(Wow the cookies from Subway absolutely suck today!)

Anyways, back to what I was saying before. This idea that you have written about is definitely something you can run with. It seems that whenever mental illness is either written about or discussed, it's always portrayed in a negative view. I've often wondered why no one takes a different stance and shows a different view on the whole issue (issue is not a good word but I'm still partially choking on that cookie and my brain isn't working properly at this moment).

Personally, I would assume that you could have so much fun writing about a mental issue. Why do people always turn it into a dark subject? Then kaboom... I see this piece and am greeted with the opposite.

Again, you have created another great line that I will be remembering - "Have fun before the world stops you."