“Al, would it take a while more?”, you ask through your lips stiff and barely moving.
“A while.”, I say and my brush moves over the canvas more.
I love to sketch you or paint you. It takes my focus and it gives me an excuse to just see you and nothinh else.
“Wait my angel, just a little while more.”
Your broad forehead and long chin. Prominent cheekbones and long fingers. Black eyes locked up into mine and I try to capture you. I don’t like to restrict you but while painting I cease you. It’s like a cage for an instant. A moment in time which is frozen over. Forever.
I always manage to smudge myself while painting you.
Your hair falling down behind your shoulders and you sit still. Which is honestly the hardest part in this while process but somehow you manage to do it with ease.
“Al, more waiting?”, you ask me.
“Done.”, I say and you come running to see it. Excitement is always in your eyes to see what new have I produced. My greatest admirer.
You lean over to see, something! It’s not a painting or a portrait for sure. It’s not a sketch either. It’s not even a caricature. Caricature has got resemblance! This looks vaguely like you.
“It’s not good.”, I say a bit dejected.
“It’s awesome Al! I love it a looooooooot!”, you say spinning in circles.
I admire you spinning and laughing joyously and feel my heart flutter. It’s amazing how you take pleasure in the simple things of life, like a something which vaguely resembles you.
And the imagination of your reaction at a great work of mine always pushes me to work harder.