Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘playhouse’

It took months for my father to build my playhouse. I remember how he started by drawing up construction plans and leveling a patch of dirt in the backyard next to the peach tree, and every weekend, I watched as he painstakingly constructed it from scratch, board by board, nail by nail. I’m sure I was quite impatient for my father to finish it, but he insisted on taking his time.

When he was done, my playhouse had a real door with a lock and key, windows, a built-in bookshelf, a handcrafted table with two chairs, and real linoleum on the floor. Out front was a wood deck with a built-in bench. It was beautiful, glowing, smelling sweetly of timber and sandpaper, and it surpassed my wildest dreams.

Years later, inevitably, the wooden structure began to rot and give way to the elements, and my parents asked if they could tear it down. I was already grown-up and living far away, and really, what could we do? We all knew it was time. The dilapidated structure came down, and my mother planted flowers and vegetables where my playhouse had once stood.

This painting represents a treasured photo. “It was all that was left” of my playhouse. Now the photo too is gone, lost somewhere between loose album pages and moving boxes. Things–the playhouse, the photo, and perhaps even this painting someday–slip away so easily. But our sweetest memories always persist.

See the next painting in the series.

“It was all that was left” is part of a series titled “Lost Along the Way.”

4″ x 4″ acrylic and ink on canvas

Read Full Post »