A new picture showed up on my refrigerator this morning. It was a drawing of a girl, in a two-piece swim suit, floating above the water, graceful with her legs and hands crossed, and a sword through her head with blood dripping in the water.
A sword. Blood. Big smile. Happy fish in the water under her feet. I knew it was my daughter's, I know her style. It is beautiful, colorful, proportionally correct, hanging at eye level where she knew there was not a chance I would miss it. I have not said a word. Not yet.
I have been contemplating what to say. Is this a cry for help? Is this a deep seeded need to act out her frustrations on paper? Is she just copying her brother's style, who often adds warriors fallen in battle to his maps and architectural sketches? Is she just trying her hand at something new?
It is a good deal different than how I interacted with my mom, that is for sure. I hid my drawings and writings from her after the first time. My mother likes happy stories where everything falls into place. Predictable plot lines, familiar places, perfect people. If it has a religious slant and a morality lesson built in, so much the better. Poetry? Not a chance. Dark and sinister, where the bad guys might win, even worse. Moody, or sexy, or outspoken, and it was condemned.
There was a bible in her house, and some Grollier yearbooks. There where Caldacott Medal and Newberry Award winning children's books, signed by the author, but only the ones that would fit on the short shelves. Yep, that was the basic criteria; pretty, pleasant, and no more than 8 inches tall. Sadly, I don't remember my mom ever reading to us past about early pre-school. I could read before kindergarten, and books were my world along with little drawings, so I guess she thought I was good to go. I never hung a picture on her fridge. I never hung one on my bedroom wall for that matter.
So what do I say to my daughter? I don't want her to ever shut down and hide her drawings and writings away like I did. I don't want her to think there isn't any avenue she can't explore, even get help exploring. I want her to know that I love her desire to express herself even if the images are hard to see, or comprehend, coming from her especially. This is new, and I wonder if I am ready to dive in. Also want to make sure I am not missing something if what I say is "Wow, that fish is gonna have a stomach ache if he drinks all that blood." or "Vampire fish should have longer fangs." or "Do you really think the belly button would be that high above the bikini bottom?". I just don't know. That's what has me worried. It is why I did not say anything yet.
I know my girl already writes in her little diary. She shows me sometimes, and we talk about the who? or the what? it says. She asks for colored pens, and I go get them from my art box. Sometimes, she hides the notebook under the covers if I walk by. I respect that. I'm good with that.
I think I might leave the picture on the fridge even after I say something. It is actually kinda good. It looks great with the picture of a drowning cyclops my son drew last week, and the magnet made of gingerbread, and the baseball order forms that never made it to the team mom. Maybe this is just life, and expression, and normal for our new family world. Maybe there is nothing to say.
