Vision-May Sketch

Graduation sketch 4"x5.5" pencil

April ended, and we moved to the end of school, working toward graduation activities for my oldest grandson. Such a huge class! 750 plus. Much more than the school where I had taught. I thought that my whole high school graduation class would fit on the first row of one section, and have seats left over. We had 19, the biggest class that had graduated in years. But, that was many years ago, in another place.

The graduation was held in a large arena, where university graduations and even the circus are held. We had to sit up high, with the band in front of us, and the choir, speakers, administrators, along with all those rows of seniors filling the rest of the floor. Everyone looked tiny to me, but, with my eye problems, it was even worse. They were blurry, distorted, and the colors were different. There was a giant tv screen above the scene, but I couldn't make it out, either. They were also blurry and distorted. I could tell only that they were showing head and shoulder shots, where, in looking at the scene, we could see tiny figures and objects.

I kept asking where my grandson was sitting, or where he might be walking. I never did see him. I clapped when it was appropriate, but I never could see who I was clapping for.

That was frustrating. To not be able to see my grandson graduate, after all these years of working toward that goal, and knowing that there were classmates of his who did not make it because of the TAKS test. I was relieved, excited, tearful, at times, and I couldn't even see him, except before and after the ceremony. I felt like I missed the big moment, when he got that diploma.

But, I did get to see it on tv, finally, this week. But only when I stood in front of the set to watch.

I knew that the ceremony would be very long, with that many diplomas to hand out. I only knew a few of the other seniors. I didn't want to cry, but knew that there would be some choking up, at least. So, I packed my purse with Kleenex, along with some paper, folded, and pens and pencils. I wanted to take along my clipboard, that I use like a sketchbook. It has a compartment for keeping pencils, erasers, paper, and a pencil sharpener, reference photos, or whatever I can pack in there. I've been carrying it everywhere for a few years now. But, such things were not allowed in the arena, due to security. So, this trip, I just folded some typing paper, and put it into a side pocket in my purse. My daughter carried the camera.

And, sure enough, as we entered the lobby of the arena, security was checking purses and belongings. I told her I had a lot of Kleenex because I knew that I was going to cry. She laughed and handed us a program. It looked like it would be a really long morning. But, I was prepared to draw, if it got to be too much to sit through.

The place was packed, because, not only did we have everyone associated with our school graduation, but they had scheduled several schools to graduate that day. And, it rained!

We sat through the band and choir practicing, for the first time for this program, and then the actual ceremony. It did get long, and so I sketched. My daugther took a few photos, but we were so far away, that we couldn't see much in them. Tiny little people and objects.

The above sketch, not finished, shows the scene as the students received their diplomas. I thought that my grandson had received his diploma and was being hugged by someone as he returned to his seat. However, he said that this was not him. So, again, I didn't see him. I didn't fill in all those rows of little mortar boards. My eyes just couldn't take it!

I was showing the youngest grandson how to start with a "stick" or gesture drawing, that can be completed later, and that also helps the artist to observe enough that they can remember much of what they saw, really fast. And, now, in his art class, they have been drawing fast, scribble drawings of people. He has done a good job with that project.

I also did a gesture drawing of my daughter and grandson sitting next to me, as they read their programs.

At this stage of my Macular Degeneration and cataracts, I can see up close, most of the time. Although I do have trouble connecting lines when I draw, at times, or patterns and certain light, seem to make my eyes do funny things, I can still read and see faces. Sometimes light can make things look like there is glitter all over an area, like the way that strong sunlight seems to sparkle on a sidewalk that has reflective material, or bits of glass, in it .

The sketch below is the gesture type drawing of my daughter and grandson, as I already mentioned. I like the simplicity of it, just the way it is, as well as the lines and curves. I could do a more detailed drawing from it, but I like the way this turned out.Reading Programs 4" x 5.5" graphite
You can go back and read my other posts on my experiences with Macular Degeneration in my Archives, or earlier posts. I interrupt one series to add in other things as I feel they are appropriate. All the posts on AMD experiences, are prefaced with the word Vision, which might make them easier to find. I have been trying to show what happened to me, in the order that things have occured. The next post will be about what I saw in early June.
At first, I thought that the graduation sketches were not all that significiant. But, as I wrote this, I realized that it was quite a big deal that I couldn't see my grandson get his diploma because of my eyes.
At some events, I have thought that, they should allow people who can't see very well, to sit up front. It is frustrating to go to see events, and not be able to see. To be fighting being almost nauseated and dizzy from the distortion and wavey lines, blurring, etc. instead of listening to and seeing the person you came to see. I did request that I be allowed to sit on an aisle seat at the George Bush Library when we went to see Tony Snow speak. I still couldn't see other than figures, as we were about midway back in the auditorium. They were telling me to sit by a wall, behind tall people, until I told them that I couldn't see out of one eye. I still wonder what the Secret Service people thought, when, as Snow and Bush 41 were talking to us, and there was this one old lady, leaning out in the aisle, and winking at them! I caught myself closing one eye, trying to see better, and thought that I had better stop that before the Secret Service men pounced on me for doing who knows what. So, I spent the rest of the Q&A session, straining to keep both eyes open, and see. All I could do was listen, and visit with the man sitting next to me, during lulls in the program.
I'm beginning to think that they need to provide seating for people who can't see very well, just as they provide places for wheelchairs. Another thing I experienced, due to my knees and surgery, not my eyes, is that stores need to have merchandise located down low for people who have to ride in those little electric carts in stores. You can't see merchandise, as you shop, or reach what you need from those little carts. Now, I have to ask people to read labels or tell me what items say. I have to look for shape, color, and size of familiar objects in stores.
I had remarked thatTony Snow looked really well, then, and I was surprised that his hair looked brown. It was only a few days later when he announced that cancer had returned. He was one of the most enthusiastic and intelligent speakers I have ever heard. The place was packed with an overflow audience. I still hope that all will be well for him. I hope he didn't see the elderly lady who seemed to be winking at him when he visited the George Bush Library!
Tomorrow, look for another watercolor in my series on Macular Degeneration.
Thanks for reading and sharing my work. I do welcome comments and inquiries. If you see something of interest to you, please let me know.

Storks After Loss

Looking For Family

8.5" x 11"

Pencil

There was a time during the summer, when, as we watched the storks in Poland via webcams, in one nest, the babies began to die, and one remaining egg didn't hatch. The last surviving baby was removed in an effort to save it, but, it, too, died shortly. There was a fungus that was the culprit, so the nest was treated.

The parents flew away, and it was not known if the storks would return.

Eventually, one lone stork returned. He (I just assume it was the male, since I can't tell them apart), let himself down onto the nest and looked around as if wondering, "Where is my family?"

The other stork did return after a while, although there were no more babies to care for. Like the other nests, the adults did leave on their migration to winter in Africa.

Too Much Wind

8.5" x 11"

Pencil

The lone stork, possibly the Papa, appeared to be feeling the loss of his family. For a while, he just stood in the nest, pacing a little, as if looking for any signs of the other adult stork and the babies. After all, he had spent quite a few nights, braving the wind and the rain, standing on one foot for long periods of time, turning the eggs, and all the other duties that storks have to do. Now, where had the others gone?

One night, he returned to the nest, looked around it, and the wind picked up. He spread his wings out and jumped up and down, as if letting all his anger loose at the wind. "Too much wind!" It seemed as if he might shout it, if he could. But, having no voice to shout, or words to say, all he could do was to just jump up and down and face that wind, clatter his beak at it, and try to make it stop. He seemed to have had about all the difficulties that he could take and was about ready to explode.

As I observed the storks, they seemed to be not only graceful and strong, but also they exhibited emotions and expressions. I could see joy, love, sorrow, grief, anger, desperation, tiredness, energy in their faces and in their actions.

And, as I drew them, for once, my animal drawings didn't come out to look like cartoon characters. I was pleased with that, and with the studies I was able to do as quick sketches.

Sometimes, thebirds seemed to stay still, holding a pose, and looking at me, as if to say, "Draw me like this." Other times, they were quite active but showed very interesting poses.

I probably did more drawings from this particular nest because it wasn't a site where I could save a picture, if I found the pose interesting. Also, there was such amazment that those thin birds, could withstand the wind, rain, cold and hot temperatures, perched way up high-even standing on one leg, at times in what appeared to be high wind. And, in this nest, there was such anxiety and sadness over the illness and loss of the babies that we had all waited for.

While such may be the ways of nature, it is still sad to see those things happen to living things. When the birds would pant in their nests, I felt so bad that I couldn't do anything for them.

I couldn't do anything for them, but I could draw them and other people can now observe what I saw. And, maybe, that will increase some awareness and efforts at preservation.

I just read a news item today about the possibility that there will be no more polar bears in the years to come. I love to watch polar bears, too. They remind me of Olde English Sheepdogs, which are also a lot of fun to watch. I hope that they can survive, along with many other species, and make a comeback like alligators and wolves are doing. We must leave them space and care for even the smallest of creatures. Just look at those little faces, and bodies. How could we not want to help them!

You can enjoy more about storks on the sidebar of my page under Stork Sites. While some of the webcams have shut down, for now, as the storks are going to winter in Africa, or just have a drawing or sign where a live picture used to be, there are still some sites that have photos, galleries, forums, and information about storks. There is even one that has tracking information on some storks. And, next spring, when the storks return, the links to the webcams should be working, and you can find the links to them in one place on my blog. Then you, too, can watch a stork family grow. I feel like I have learned quite a bit, and have been somewhat productive in making these drawings. I plan to do more.

The webcams that I have been watching are in Poland and Germany.

Be sure and check out the other sites I have on the sidebar of my page. There are Artists and Authors, Interesting Sites, and Eye Sites, besides the Stork Sites section.

Thank you for reading and for your comments and support. I do welcome inquiries. Please share my sites with anyone who you think might be interested.

The First Day

The First Day

Covering Books

8.5" x 11"

pencil

We came home from school after that first day, loaded down with books, book covers, and our supplies. We didn't really have complaints of aching feet, but, often, there were blisters from those new shoes. (Tired, aching feet and legs came about the time of student teaching and later.)

We had listened to our teachers, some of whom had taught our partents, looked dreamily at the new young male teachers and wondered why a nice looking young female teacher would ever want to be a teacher. We looked at what our friends were doing, and wearing, wondered what we would wear to school the next day, checked out the other students in study hall or in our class to see if there might be someone new who might be cute and a possible boyfriend. But, no, it was pretty much the same, silly boys, year after year. We would have to go out of town to look for more mature, and cute, boys.

I looked out the window, no matter what side of the school we were on, and wished I were at home. I tried to listen, but that only lasted for so long. Soon, I was watching clouds, formations of airplanes as they flew over, the flag waving, my great-aunt sitting on her porch snapping peas or working in her yard, Mama and Bertie washing and hanging clothes on the clothesline in the back yard, and Daddy driving up the street from town to eat dinner. Paper and pencil would come out to write, or books to read from, but I started out writing, with two sheets of paper, one on top of the other. I drew girls or movies, on the bottom sheet, and slid it under my work when the teacher would approach. When the teacher stood by my desk, I pretended to be thinking really hard about my work.

Back at home at the end of the day, I got a drink of water, played with my cats a little, then lugged the books and supplies over to my friend's house next door. There, we spread out on the floor in her parent's bedroom, and covered our books with the brown paper covers with store advertising and sports schedules printed on them. My friend's covers always fit perfectly while mine were not quite right. One side would be too loose, one side so tight the books wouldn't close, or they would be off center . We didn't have Scotch tape as part of our supplies but we used white paste in a small jar, or, some years, we made our own with flour and water. Supplies were fairly simple. Scissors, two pencils, a box of crayons, or colored pencils if we were doing maps that year, a fountain pen and a bottle of ink. A tablet in lower grades, a notebook with notebook paper in later years. A protractor and compass were signs that students were now old enough to take Geometry. There were no backpacks, calculators, pencil bags, ball point pens, watercolors, or poster board for students. Some years, we had a cigar box to put our loose supplies in, that were obtained from any store where they sold cigars. We just had to ask. Later, there were wooden cigar boxes, which were really nice, but much heavier to have to carry around.

I thought I was really grown up when I got to have a blue cloth covered notebook and could use a fountain pen rather than pencil. As soon as books were covered, and notebook paper had been inserted in the notebook, names were put on the book covers. We thought we were really "slick" when we reversed the book covers, to show the plain side, and then wrote names all over those covers. Then we used fountain pen and ink to write names on the outside of the blue cloth notebooks. Those were added to all year or until the notebook fell apart and we had to get a new one. The teachers were not happy with our decorated book covers, though, and made us put on new covers, the correct way.

Now, I wonder why none of us ever thought to decorate those book covers with pictures or designs. We only copied each other in writing names on our books. (Never inside, though, except on the correct line inside the cover.) We didn't have art, and I don't remember but one other person doing any art work when we were in school. She had decided she wanted to be an artist, at one point. But, I don't recall ever seeing any art work that she did. We did have coloring books though.

My mother drew and painted, but she stopped when I was born, and didn't take art up again until I was a bit older. I wasn't exposed to drawing or art work at home, particularly, but I drew anyway. I thought of it as an escape, others looked at my drawing as something I was interested in.

We were taught to cherish and care for books and materials. We didn't dare put a mark in the school books, or even get a tear in the cover. It was really hard for me to use a highlighter or mark passages in the books I bought in later years. I still don't like to do that.

Of course, this was around the time of WWII, and there was a either a shortage or rationing of almost everything, including paper. War time followed the Depression, so people were still conserving and saving, trying to recover from those hard times.

The cost, as well as the way books are used and cared for today, have changed quite a bit. I still remember the anticipation of using that new package of notebook paper in the decorated notebook, of adding more names to my notebook and book covers, of dipping the fountain pen in ink and filling it, of going to the pencil sharpener for the first time and standing in line to sharpen my two pencils, the feel of paste on my fingers as I spread it on the corners of the book covers, and of wondering who I might have to sit by in class.

I don't have books to cover anymore, but I do have a notebook, with a fresh package of notebook paper to write on, when the notion strikes me. And, I have a grandson, to keep up with school work.

I have added a counter to my blog page. I thought it might be interesting to see where people are when they view my blog. I had seen that on several blogs and finally found how to add that on artist Nancy Standlee's ( Arlington, Texas) blog.

I hope that first day excitement and enthusiasm continues for you, and that tired feet recover soon. And, for others, I hope you get back into the rhythm of getting up early and sending the family off to school, and all the other schedules and rules that revolve around school.

Back To School

Getting Ready 8.5" x 11" pencil

Good luck to everyone-students, teachers, administrators, parents, and family members-as the 2007-2008 school year gets underway. It's nice to be able to wave "goodbye" as everyone goes off to school in the morning, after so many years when I was always in a rush to get on the road to school. Of course, there were quite a few years when, as a student, my mother chased me to school with threats of using the hairbrush or a switch, and telling me, "Don't dawdle!"

In "Getting Ready", I've shown the first step in getting ready for a new school year. Shopping!

We made several trips, with Mama and great-aunts, to Marlin and Waco, to look for supplies and new clothes for school. Some mothers sewed a lot for their daughters, and mine did, too. But, the exciting new things were those that were purchased in places like specialty shops or the big department stores, with their memorable fragrances and attractions.

As soon as all my school necessities were ready, I headed across the empty lot to my friend's house. We spread out all our clothes and supplies, and compared what we would use during the coming school year.

I started to school at age 4, in the same class with my friend. Most of the other students in that class were 6. I got mad and went home, vowing to never return to school. I spent the rest of that school year, looking out the window and wishing I was at school with my friends. When school started, the year that I was 5, Daddy made me go. I was still the "baby" of the class, but I could do what all the other kids were doing.

"Getting Ready" shows me coming in the back screen door of the neighbor's house, with a sack full of clothes and supplies, another package of supplies under my arm, and a box with a new pair of shoes. Ready to go to school. As the years passed, though, there were more boxes and bags of things to share.

Hope that you have had some memorable "getting ready" experiences.

Summer Afternoon In The City

Summer Afternoon In The City
8.5" x 11"
pencil
Summer is about over, with school starting here Monday. And, the weather man on tv last night said that signs of the approach of fall are showing up from the far north in the way of cooler temperatures. Many of us are so connected with school that seasons go by the school year schedule, rather than what is going on with the calendar or the solar system. Fall begins when school starts, summer begins when school is out. Didn't the summer just fly by this year!
I thought I would add a drawing today about spending summer in the city with one pair of grandparents. My sister and I would each go for a week, separately. We couldn't go together because we argued and fought too much.
After World War II, my grandparents, and their daughter and her new husband, moved from a small apartment in Victory Village where workers in the aircraft plant and Air Force personnel lived with their families. As soon as houses in the new additions were available, people flocked to the little houses, all in a row. My grandparents bought their house, and my aunt and uncle bought a house just around the corner and down a couple of blocks. So, they were close.
Some people planted small new trees, and plants in their yards, but there wasn't much to provide shade in the hot summer. And there were no fans or air conditioning in most houses. My aunt and uncle did have a water fan, and a small table fan, but my grandparents didn't. Grandma chose to have her entire back yard planted as a vegetable garden, with a small space to walk around the edges. So there was no shade there, and no place to play, either. We could follow her around as she worked in the garden, and look for bugs. But, that was about all there was to do in the yard.
I could sit on the porch and wait for a car to go by. An ice cream truck came in the afternoon, and sometimes I was given a nickle to buy a treat, if I had been good. Usually, though, I just had to watch that truck drive on down the street. I was hot, uncomfortable, bored, wanted to be at home, so I whined, and cried, fussed and pouted for a lot of the time I was there. Grandma's switch, though, put a sting on my legs and an end to my complaints, for a while. I just pouted in silence and was anxious to go home.
The days went like this. Grandpa got up early, before the sun came up, and cooked a big breakfast and baked. He might turn on the radio to listen to the farm news or "The Breakfast Club" from Dallas, while he ate breakfast. Grandma dressed in her long sleeved dress, and spent a long time brushing her hip length hair, then braiding it and putting it up on her head. Then she went out in the yard and chopped whatever needed chopping. She might pick some tomatoes, or dig some potatoes, whatever she wanted to pick for dinner or for the rest of the day. When it got too hot to work in the yard, she came in, ate something and drank some coffee, then washed out clothes in the kitchen sink or bathtub (not many people had washing machines), and Grandpa hung them outside on the clothesline while Grandma started cooking dinner.
I got up, had some cereal, or just looked at whatever Grandpa had cooked. I was a very picky eater, and especially didn't like eating away from home. All I liked to eat was cereal, fruit, and milk for meals. I could be coaxed to eat desserts, but, with sugar rationing, we were used to missing out on sweet treats.
I would dress and sit in the living room for a while, then go out on the porch, which was on the west side. It was cool there in the morning. Or I would follow Grandma around in the garden on the east side of the house for a little while. Then, I would make up my bed and stare at the next house from the window. Then I would move back to the living room and sit on the floor a while. There was an old set of dominoes that were missing a few dominoes, and I would stack them up and build buildings with those, then knock them down and start again.
Grandma's living room suite only made the house hotter. It was bulky, overstuffed, and covered with fabric that was scratchy, like wool, to me. And, it was a color that seemed hot pink and bright red combined. I chose to sit on the hardwood floor, which was a bit cooler and didn't make me itch.
At dinner time at 12 noon, we would sit in silence. I drank my milk and waited until I was dismissed from the table. They didnt' talk, didn't turn on the radio, just went about whatever they were doing in silence. Dinner might consist of iced tea, (milk for me) "light" bread, sliced tomatoes, fried potatoes, fried okra, creamed or corn on the cob, beans or peas, fried round steak with gravy, or liver and onions, or macaroni with canned tomatoes, fried chicken with pan gravy, plain roast on Sunday. And Grandpa might bake rolls, or a pie or cake. They didn't have salad as we have today. I never heard of salad until I was in high school, and, then, it was either fruit salad, or a congealed salad with fruit in it. The first time I saw a salad was when I was in college and I was eating in a restaurant. Usually, orders were served with a lettuce leaf and a slice of tomato, and a sprig of parsley, so there was no need to order a bowl with lettuce and tomatoes. But, people just ate the things separately, at home.
By this time of day, it was getting really hot. We hoped for a breeze through the open windows. Usually, there was no breeze at all and the heat was suffocating. Grandma washed and put away dishes, turned on her soap opera on the radio, then retired to her bedroom with Grandpa. They had metal twin beds, that they had used in the one bedroom apartment. The beds were on opposite sides of the room, with a night table in between. The table only held a jar of Vicks or Mentholatum, the wind up alarm clock with a face that glowed in the dark, and a flashlight.
Grandma sat on her bed, facing Grandpa, just looking at the floor. Grandpa sat on his bed, facing Grandma, and also stared at the floor. They usually didn't lay down, but spent the afternoon in this hot room on the west side of the house, just sitting and sweating. Grandma had her spit can on the floor by her bed. She did take a dip of snuff, which seemed really disgusting, to me.
They didn't seem to care what I did, just as long as I was quiet and didn't bother anyone. I tip- toed back and forth from the second bedroom, where I was staying, to the living room, to the bathroom, and back. There were no books or magazines to read as I did at home when I stayed with great-aunts, and it was their bath and nap time.
Finally, Grandma pulled a package of playing cards from a drawer and gave them to me. I didn't know what to do with them, but to build houses, which kept falling down. So, she showed me how to play Solitaire, one afternoon. Well, I didn't like numbers or math, so I really didn't want to do that. But, in desperation, I finally started playing, just to pass the time. But, all the while, I was thinking of what I could be doing at home. Wishing I had a friend there, or, better still, a boyfriend there, could go to the movies with someone, to a park, or even down the street to where there was a stable with horses that people could pay to ride. There were so many things to do there, and it was rare that we got to do any of them.
As the afternoon wore on, I started looking for that ice cream truck, and hoping I could get a nickle for a small ice cream cone. If I got the money, I would sit on the back steps, in the shade of the house, and try to make the ice cream last as long as possible. In late afternoon, Grandma would check her garden, pick something, if needed, and start a little supper. That might be something like milk toast, cereal, or left overs. Sandwiches were not a meal, but were considered a snack or party refreshments.
After dishes were washed and put away, kitchen and bathroom floors mopped, everyone dressed for bed, and my grandparents went back to sit on their beds for a while, then lights were turned out and they went to sleep. I sat on my bed, looking out the windows, until a cool early morning breeze came through the windows. I rolled around on the bed, thinking of someday. Wishing that someday would hurry up and come. Someday, life would be full and fun, and I would have a fan or air conditioning in the summer. Someday, I would not be like my grandparents. I thought that they were living boring and lonely lives. How could they stand to live like they did. Someday, I would have someone to love,and we would talk and enjoy life. Dreams of youth.
My grandparents didn't have a car, but depended on their daughter or son-in-law to take them shopping and to places they needed to go. There were buses in the city that could have taken us somewhere, I thought. In later years, my aunt introduced me to a girl my age, and we would meet at the movies, or she would come over, or I might just talk to her on the phone. That helped to improve my visits to the city.
Occasionally, Grandma would take me for a walk along the street and back up the next street. She usually stopped to get a switch and would pop my legs with it when I started lagging behind or whining. She did tell me how to pick out a stick that was good to use for a toothbrush and about using cobwebs to stop bleeding. She told that her father had been a "hillbilly doctor" in Tennessee and she served as his nurse, as she grew up.
I thought, "Why not just go to the store and buy a toothbrush and toothpaste, and why not just go to the doctor if needed?"
She probably talked of other things, but I didn't pay attention. I was thinking of home, my friends, my pets, my toys, and things I would like to do and the way I wanted things to be someday. I should have listened and encouraged her to tell her stories.
It was boring to just walk down those streets with rows of houses, almost all alike. I wanted to go to the end of the street and, at least, spend time looking at the horses at the stable and the pasture where they let people ride. I know that I got to ride them about 3 or 4 times, usually if Daddy was there, and he had allowed enough time for a ride. Sometimes, Daddy would take us to the park and we got to ride the little train, go to the zoo, and ride the carnival type rides there. They had the most wonderful little train with a steam engine to pull it. We had gone to the botanical gardens and concerts under the stars, when my aunt and uncle were dating. And my aunt had taken us downtown into the city to go to the big department stores. Another time, we went inside a large Catholic Church to look at the organ. My dad liked to take us to the Fat Stock Show and my mother liked for us to go to the Ice Capades. But, those times were rare.
While I didn't do a lot, I did learn some things during these visits. Besides learning to play (and dislike) cards, I learned to be quiet, patient, and to deal with things like heat and boredom. Today, I could spend the time writing, painting, drawing, but I didn't have access to those materials at that time. My drawing was usually in school , when I was supposed to be doing school work.
In my drawing above, "Summer Afternoon In The City", I have shown my grandparents as they spent the afternoon, in their bed room, and me, playing solitaire on the bed in the guest bedroom. Through the windows, you can see the new house across the street from my grandparents' bedroom on the west side, and the new neighboring house on the south side behind me. There was actually a little hall where the bedroom doors faced. I used a bit of artistic license with this, in order to show what we were doing.
I hope that you have made some good memories this summer, and that my drawing will remind you of some summer memories of your own.