Becky's Sketchbook

The first time I saw her, she was clutching a sketchbook in her arms. It was very plain-looking with a black cover and golden spirals.

Every week at church, she carried that sketchbook. I never saw her without it.

Becky was never the first person to initiate a conversation. She would much rather be sitting down, working on whatever it was in her sketchbook while the other children played. She was very protective over her sketchbook, never letting anyone near it, always clutching it close to her chest. She could spend hours hunched over it without uttering a word.

Whenever the other kids asked her if she wanted to play together, they always got the same response.

“Want to come play with us?”

“No, thanks.”

One afternoon, we were on the swings at the playground while the adults conducted their usual bible study. The air was humid and heavy, typical of that of a summer night in Virginia. We didn’t look at each other. I remember seeing little bugs flying around our legs as we swung in the air.

“Becky, why do you always carry that sketchbook?” I asked finally, breaking the stillness.

“What sketchbook?”

“The one you would always carry, the one you would never let go.”

She paused, her gaze fixed on the dusty mulch beneath us.“Oh. It was from my grandma. When we moved from Pennsylvania, I promised her that I would fill it up with sketches of my surroundings. My parents never believed that art was a worthwhile pursuit. But my grandma believes in me. She saw the way that I could turn the most mundane things in life into something creative.”

I stayed silent, not wanting to break her rhythm.

“I guess I use it as a way to prove myself. To prove to my parents that art isn’t a waste of time. That I can be something more than they think I am.”

“I have two older sisters at home and it’s often hard to speak up. No one ever pays attention to me. Art is my way of expressing myself.”

I nodded. The moment stretched between us, heavy with unspoken understanding. If a person were to pass by, they would see two little girls with their legs dangling in the air, basking in the glow of the summer night. Each lost in their own thought but somehow connected.