I was once your six-year-old, messy-hair, oversized-shirt, make-believe artist back in Mrs. Grelina’s class.
“Live your dreams.” Our teacher used to say and we’d come to her class dressed as the person we would soon become. One classmate brought with her a toy stethoscope and the other wore polished suit like a business tycoon. Meanwhile, I was the quite boy acting strange and weird because that’s what I thought artists should be like—peculiar.
I remember one day, Mrs. Grelina asked me why I dreamed to be an artist. With a pencil tucked behind my ears, I told her that I wanted to impress everyone. She warmly smiled and said, “That’s a good start. But soon you will realize that art craves to express rather than impress.”
Thirty years later, I stood beside my pride during the Splash of Extraordinary Art competition. A rival artist came and gave a mocking remark. “You’ll never impress the judges with those cows, pal.”
“Maybe. But I bet they’ll never forget these for a long time.” I gladly replied.
Word Count: 175
Enjoy more stories here: