I dump out all my crayons, letting them roll in all directions.

The paper is blank, but I can already feel the picture coming to light in my head.

I let my hands find the colors I need, translating all the emotion; all the warm loving thoughts, all the dark haunting fears.

The picture turns out to be very different on paper than the image I intended.

It's more sad, pathetic, and disappointing to me. I want to tear it up and throw it out!

But  he takes the page and tells me how lovely it is, and how proud he is that I would color for him.

I tell him I'm sorry, that it's not very good, but he doesn't see what I'm talking about.

All he sees is the love, put into colors...