Thursday, December 3, 2009
Spouse bought some coloured crayons and paper. He surmised quite reasonably that drawing, and colouring between the lines, would rejuvenate his injured left hand. Being primarily right-handed, Spouse determined that the other really ought to be utilised, and so away he went each evening to a quiet corner with his sketch book and a brightly coloured volume of cartoons from which he selected scenes to copy.
After numerous pictures emerged over a period of days, each one better than the one before it, I commented to friends about how marvellous Spouse was at replicating pictures with a weaker hand.
When I mentioned it to Spouse, he hastily corrected my assumption.
He confessed that he had so enjoyed the simple and soothing act of drawing that he thoroughly forgot the original purpose of the activity; and he had, all the while, been merrily sketching with his right hand.
Posted by Phyllis Hunt McGowan at 2:42 PM