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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Inspirational / Uplifting
- Published: 03/08/2021
The Coloring Book.
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United States“Tell me again about this old man.”
Debbie’s husband shook his head with a kind of “I don’t now where to begin” kind of motion. Then he began:
“I told you, he was just an old man…at first. I don’t know maybe seventy, seventy five tops. I was sitting on a bench near where Kyle was swinging on the swing set down in Wallace Park.
“You weren’t swinging Kyle?”
Debbie’s husband flushed around his neck…just a little. Enough to ward off any stinging words.
“I did for a while. Then I thought he should play by himself for a bit. So I went over and checked my Social Media.”
This time it was Debbie show shook her head. She wanted to say something about how Kyle wouldn’t be a little boy much longer…and playtime with Mom and Dad would be replaced by schoolmates, dates, college and career challenges. But…she remembered how many times she checked her Social Media while she had Kyle watch a video…or play on the slides at Wallace Park. So she quietly vowed to let her phone alone at the park.
“I slammed the table over the crap that Party is trying to pull over and how the Media keeps covering up for them.”
Debbie shuddered. A part of her was scared that he was going to go off on one of his angry rants. They got so dark and ugly…and mean. She had watched as her husband and his sister became bitter and distant. She had stood by as one by one, fewer and fewer of his friend wanted to stop by for a beer, shoot some hoops in the driveway, or come over for Poker Night.
She had to hold back tears as it dawned on her that few of their old friends ever stopped by and Poker Night was a thing of the past. Her own Mother stopped coming by if her husband was home. A thought popped into her head. Her Mother really just played with Kyle almost the whole time she was here…if Debbie started talking Politics, or Conspiracy theories…her Mother simply said” “That’s interesting.” And then left within a few moments. The thought that popped into Debbie’s head scared her.
“My Mom thinks I am just like my husband. So do my two brothers and my sister Carol. Oh…dear. No wonder they don’t come over much anymore. They used to be such good Uncles and Aunts.”
Debbie put that thought aside. She would think about it later. Hard. She caught the look her husband gave her. It was a double edged look. One part was clearly upset that she wasn’t listening to him…but entertaining her own thoughts. The other part was a look she hadn’t seen in a long time. It was one that she used to love. It was a look that asked-without words- “are you okay, Honey? “ She would answer him later about that look. She smiled.
“And then what happend?”
Debbie’s Husband took the opening:
“This old guy came and sat across from me on the picnic table. He handed me a clean white handkerchief. ‘You are going to need this, young man. You are bleeding.” Sure enough, I looked at my palm, and a nail sticking out of the picnic table must have cut my palm when I slammed it on the table. I thanked him and pressed the handkerchief over the cut. Then the old guy said:
“What got you so upset you punched a table?”
“I told him. Everything. Part of me knew I was ranting, another part of me was so doggone mad and disgusted with the world, that I didn’t care anymore. I finally wore down. It felt good. Somebody had listened to me! “
“Did he agree with you?”
Debbie’s husband closed his eyes for a moment. Shook his head at the memory. It made him sad to recount what happened next. He was disappointed in himself. Ashamed. Debbie let him simmer in his distress. He deserved to.
“No. He never made any judgements or comments. He just…well…listened. The only time he said anything is when Kyle came over and tugged on my jacket to come play with him. I told Kyle I was talking and not to interrupt. That is when the old guy said: “Why don’t you chase him around the slides for a while…I will wait to finish our conversation.”
Kyle’s face lit up - and then fell. I told him to go play while I finished talking with the old guy. I would chase him later.”
Debbie’s heart was hurting. She knew what that rejection felt like to her little boy. Kyle loves his Dad with his whole tiny heart. Debbie also hurt for her husband…because he knew he should have gone and played. In fact, the old days, her husband would have been playing with Kyle the whole time. Debbie started thinking that she needed to stop and think about their family more. She cast an understanding look at her husband. He rewarded her with a grateful look that promised it wouldn’t happen again.
“And that when he asked me if I was going to be at the Park again tomorrow. I said that yes I would be. I bring Kyle down here most mornings. The Old Man Smiled at me, patted my hand. Then he got up to leave with these words:
“You can keep the handkerchief. (We both laughed as I held up the now bloody rag) Tomorrow I am going to bring you something. If your wife is home, could you bring her to play with Kyle while we talk?”
"I flared up. Who was he to criticize how I play with my child. The flare went right back down when I looked into his eyes. There was no guile there, or hint of judgement. All I saw in those eyes was compassion, understanding, and caring. I kind of felt bad about my flare of anger. The old man simply wanted to talk with me again. I told him I would ask you to come along. Will you?’
Debbie was fascinated. She wouldn’t miss this for the world. Already the old man had given her pause in her own thoughts…and revealed how much her and her husband were caught up in things that didn’t include Kyle. She was slightly ashamed of herself too. The old man was changing their small family in a good way…she thought.
“Of course, I am going. I want to meet this old man. And it has been a while since I chased Kyle around the Park. He loves that. “
Their eyes met. Shared guilt as the memory of Kyle’s giggle and screeches that made them laugh - sounds they used to hear everyday, and seemed to be a thing of the past, hit home. Debbie was starting to get mad…at herself. At her husband. At her Social Media addiction. At the News. At the world. Part of her wanted to fight back. It was a beginning.
That night was the first night in a long, long, long time, where the TV did not go on for the dinner time news hour. Nor did it go on later that evening. Debbie and her Husband made tent forts in the living room with Kyle. Then they through the cushions from the sofa and all the pillows on the floor all the way to the kitchen. They pretended they were marshmallows. The floor was steaming hot chocolate. You had to get around the house on the pillows and cushions…if you fell, you fell into the hot chocolate. Kyle loved that game.
Kyle curled up in his own bed that night. Nestled up against his Mom on one side, his hand resting on his Dad’s lap. His Father was reading a book to him, his Mother was providing the “girl” voices. Kyle fell asleep smiling. Later, so did his parents.
The old man waved at the young couple. Introductions were made. Kyle’s little heart almost exploded with happiness when the old man presented him with a giant plastic bag filled with dinosaurs of all kinds and colors. Of to the sandbox raced little Kyle, towing his mother in his wake. She turned back to wink at her husband. A wink that said: “Take as long as you need.”
“How’s your hand?”
Debbie’s husband looked down at the bandaid that Kyle had put on his hand last night. It would have covered a much much bigger wound. He laughed out loud at the memory of his son cleaning the wound with antiseptic and then the size of dressing his son chose to put over the wound. His wife’s eyes sharing quiet laughter as they talked Kyle out of adding a few stitches.
“It’s fine. Kyle took good care of it for me.”
The old man smiled back.
“Good work there! Now, I am going to give you something. I don’t want you to ask any questions. Just sit here for a while. You will know what to do. I will go sit on the swings for a bit.”
“Okay. What is it?”
The old man reached in his backpack and brought out two things. A coloring book and a set of sixteen crayons. He set them both in front of Debbie’s husband. A huge smile on his face, he tapped them both gently as he got up to leave.
Debbie’s husband was startled.
“A coloring book? Crayons? What am I supposed to do, I am not a child.”
The old man tapped Debbie’s husband lightly on the shoulder. Pointed to the crayons and coloring book.
“You know what to do.”
Debbie’s husband looked over at his son and wife, both lost in a world of dinosaurs roaming the wilds of the big sandbox. They were giggling and laughing. Totally unaware that he was looking at them. Just then his wife made a pterodactyl swoop in low for a pass over a big sauropod of some kind. Kyle held a Tyrannosaurus in his tiny chubby paw, and it leaped and roared at the pterodactyl …and missed. The laughter peeled from Debbie as she mimicked a pterodactyl caw…and Kyle roared out a very high pitched Tyrannosaurus yell. The old man was smiling at them all as he gently swung with a one footed push ever return swing.
Debbie’s husband turned back to the coloring book and crayons. He started to smile. Then to concentrate. A few minutes later…to color.
People walked by. A few stopped to just take in the scene. One older lady smiled. Her day made. What they saw was a young man lost in a coloring book, his tongue stuck out to one side as each crayon was chosen with great care. He was intent and lost in the work of his Masterpiece. A few feet away, in what must be one of biggest sand boxes they had ever seen- was a young mother and her son.
They were playing with dinosaurs roaming the giant hills they had made by hand. Some topped with twigs and leaves to make a Jungle where a triceratops might hide, or a brontosaurus might nibble leaves forty feet off the ground. A river and lake were fashioned from water taken from their water bottles. Some of the dinosaurs were stuck in the mud.
Pterodactyls swooped and soared in the hands of the young mother….desperate (and futile) lunges into the air were made by the tyrannosaurus held in the chubby fingers of the four year old boy. Watching all of them from his perch on a swing, was an old man with the most comforting smile on his face.
Debbie’s husband reached for another crayon. His brow furrowed in thought. He put the blue crayon back…and selected the aquamarine one instead. It was a good choice.
Later, the old man left the park. Debbie, her husband, and little Kyle didn’t notice his departure. Each was studiously attacking the coloring book with an full frontal assault of artistic talent. Debbie had shown her small family how to sharpen a crayon using her emery board from her purse. That allowed them to make Scrivener level fine lines.
Kyle wrote his name for the first time, the letters were uneven and different sizes, the praise from his Mom and Dad was the same size…enormous. Debbie had quietly torn out her husband’s colored Art work and folded it neatly. She would frame that later, hang it in their bedroom, and smile every time she looked at it. He had done it all himself while she and Kyle played in a Jurassic Park they had contracted themselves.
His shy revelation of it to her and Kyle was one of the best moments she had all year. She saw the little boy pride in his eyes, and the love…when she ogled the easy blend of colors. It was well done.
Debbie’s husband, quietly folded one of her colorings too. It wouldn’t go in a frame. It would go in his wallet. It wasn’t anything special…really. Except to him. It was a beautifully colored tree, with a heart carved into it. Inside the heart were his and Debbie’s initials - and a plus sing. Underneath the drawing on the trunk of the tree was one word: FOREVER.
He had reached over to squeeze Debbie’s hand when he saw her work. She had squeezed his hand back. Then she leaned over and kissed him full on the lips. Until little Kyle’s disgusted: “Yuck!”. That made them puff laughter into each other’s mouths.
Later that summer, they stopped to look. The old man was sitting at the picnic table with what looked to be a young woman in her late twenties. In the sand box was a young man about the same age, and a little girl about four or so. They were playing with dinosaurs.
The old man was handing something to the young woman.
It was a coloring book.
The Coloring Book.(Kevin Hughes)
“Tell me again about this old man.”
Debbie’s husband shook his head with a kind of “I don’t now where to begin” kind of motion. Then he began:
“I told you, he was just an old man…at first. I don’t know maybe seventy, seventy five tops. I was sitting on a bench near where Kyle was swinging on the swing set down in Wallace Park.
“You weren’t swinging Kyle?”
Debbie’s husband flushed around his neck…just a little. Enough to ward off any stinging words.
“I did for a while. Then I thought he should play by himself for a bit. So I went over and checked my Social Media.”
This time it was Debbie show shook her head. She wanted to say something about how Kyle wouldn’t be a little boy much longer…and playtime with Mom and Dad would be replaced by schoolmates, dates, college and career challenges. But…she remembered how many times she checked her Social Media while she had Kyle watch a video…or play on the slides at Wallace Park. So she quietly vowed to let her phone alone at the park.
“I slammed the table over the crap that Party is trying to pull over and how the Media keeps covering up for them.”
Debbie shuddered. A part of her was scared that he was going to go off on one of his angry rants. They got so dark and ugly…and mean. She had watched as her husband and his sister became bitter and distant. She had stood by as one by one, fewer and fewer of his friend wanted to stop by for a beer, shoot some hoops in the driveway, or come over for Poker Night.
She had to hold back tears as it dawned on her that few of their old friends ever stopped by and Poker Night was a thing of the past. Her own Mother stopped coming by if her husband was home. A thought popped into her head. Her Mother really just played with Kyle almost the whole time she was here…if Debbie started talking Politics, or Conspiracy theories…her Mother simply said” “That’s interesting.” And then left within a few moments. The thought that popped into Debbie’s head scared her.
“My Mom thinks I am just like my husband. So do my two brothers and my sister Carol. Oh…dear. No wonder they don’t come over much anymore. They used to be such good Uncles and Aunts.”
Debbie put that thought aside. She would think about it later. Hard. She caught the look her husband gave her. It was a double edged look. One part was clearly upset that she wasn’t listening to him…but entertaining her own thoughts. The other part was a look she hadn’t seen in a long time. It was one that she used to love. It was a look that asked-without words- “are you okay, Honey? “ She would answer him later about that look. She smiled.
“And then what happend?”
Debbie’s Husband took the opening:
“This old guy came and sat across from me on the picnic table. He handed me a clean white handkerchief. ‘You are going to need this, young man. You are bleeding.” Sure enough, I looked at my palm, and a nail sticking out of the picnic table must have cut my palm when I slammed it on the table. I thanked him and pressed the handkerchief over the cut. Then the old guy said:
“What got you so upset you punched a table?”
“I told him. Everything. Part of me knew I was ranting, another part of me was so doggone mad and disgusted with the world, that I didn’t care anymore. I finally wore down. It felt good. Somebody had listened to me! “
“Did he agree with you?”
Debbie’s husband closed his eyes for a moment. Shook his head at the memory. It made him sad to recount what happened next. He was disappointed in himself. Ashamed. Debbie let him simmer in his distress. He deserved to.
“No. He never made any judgements or comments. He just…well…listened. The only time he said anything is when Kyle came over and tugged on my jacket to come play with him. I told Kyle I was talking and not to interrupt. That is when the old guy said: “Why don’t you chase him around the slides for a while…I will wait to finish our conversation.”
Kyle’s face lit up - and then fell. I told him to go play while I finished talking with the old guy. I would chase him later.”
Debbie’s heart was hurting. She knew what that rejection felt like to her little boy. Kyle loves his Dad with his whole tiny heart. Debbie also hurt for her husband…because he knew he should have gone and played. In fact, the old days, her husband would have been playing with Kyle the whole time. Debbie started thinking that she needed to stop and think about their family more. She cast an understanding look at her husband. He rewarded her with a grateful look that promised it wouldn’t happen again.
“And that when he asked me if I was going to be at the Park again tomorrow. I said that yes I would be. I bring Kyle down here most mornings. The Old Man Smiled at me, patted my hand. Then he got up to leave with these words:
“You can keep the handkerchief. (We both laughed as I held up the now bloody rag) Tomorrow I am going to bring you something. If your wife is home, could you bring her to play with Kyle while we talk?”
"I flared up. Who was he to criticize how I play with my child. The flare went right back down when I looked into his eyes. There was no guile there, or hint of judgement. All I saw in those eyes was compassion, understanding, and caring. I kind of felt bad about my flare of anger. The old man simply wanted to talk with me again. I told him I would ask you to come along. Will you?’
Debbie was fascinated. She wouldn’t miss this for the world. Already the old man had given her pause in her own thoughts…and revealed how much her and her husband were caught up in things that didn’t include Kyle. She was slightly ashamed of herself too. The old man was changing their small family in a good way…she thought.
“Of course, I am going. I want to meet this old man. And it has been a while since I chased Kyle around the Park. He loves that. “
Their eyes met. Shared guilt as the memory of Kyle’s giggle and screeches that made them laugh - sounds they used to hear everyday, and seemed to be a thing of the past, hit home. Debbie was starting to get mad…at herself. At her husband. At her Social Media addiction. At the News. At the world. Part of her wanted to fight back. It was a beginning.
That night was the first night in a long, long, long time, where the TV did not go on for the dinner time news hour. Nor did it go on later that evening. Debbie and her Husband made tent forts in the living room with Kyle. Then they through the cushions from the sofa and all the pillows on the floor all the way to the kitchen. They pretended they were marshmallows. The floor was steaming hot chocolate. You had to get around the house on the pillows and cushions…if you fell, you fell into the hot chocolate. Kyle loved that game.
Kyle curled up in his own bed that night. Nestled up against his Mom on one side, his hand resting on his Dad’s lap. His Father was reading a book to him, his Mother was providing the “girl” voices. Kyle fell asleep smiling. Later, so did his parents.
The old man waved at the young couple. Introductions were made. Kyle’s little heart almost exploded with happiness when the old man presented him with a giant plastic bag filled with dinosaurs of all kinds and colors. Of to the sandbox raced little Kyle, towing his mother in his wake. She turned back to wink at her husband. A wink that said: “Take as long as you need.”
“How’s your hand?”
Debbie’s husband looked down at the bandaid that Kyle had put on his hand last night. It would have covered a much much bigger wound. He laughed out loud at the memory of his son cleaning the wound with antiseptic and then the size of dressing his son chose to put over the wound. His wife’s eyes sharing quiet laughter as they talked Kyle out of adding a few stitches.
“It’s fine. Kyle took good care of it for me.”
The old man smiled back.
“Good work there! Now, I am going to give you something. I don’t want you to ask any questions. Just sit here for a while. You will know what to do. I will go sit on the swings for a bit.”
“Okay. What is it?”
The old man reached in his backpack and brought out two things. A coloring book and a set of sixteen crayons. He set them both in front of Debbie’s husband. A huge smile on his face, he tapped them both gently as he got up to leave.
Debbie’s husband was startled.
“A coloring book? Crayons? What am I supposed to do, I am not a child.”
The old man tapped Debbie’s husband lightly on the shoulder. Pointed to the crayons and coloring book.
“You know what to do.”
Debbie’s husband looked over at his son and wife, both lost in a world of dinosaurs roaming the wilds of the big sandbox. They were giggling and laughing. Totally unaware that he was looking at them. Just then his wife made a pterodactyl swoop in low for a pass over a big sauropod of some kind. Kyle held a Tyrannosaurus in his tiny chubby paw, and it leaped and roared at the pterodactyl …and missed. The laughter peeled from Debbie as she mimicked a pterodactyl caw…and Kyle roared out a very high pitched Tyrannosaurus yell. The old man was smiling at them all as he gently swung with a one footed push ever return swing.
Debbie’s husband turned back to the coloring book and crayons. He started to smile. Then to concentrate. A few minutes later…to color.
People walked by. A few stopped to just take in the scene. One older lady smiled. Her day made. What they saw was a young man lost in a coloring book, his tongue stuck out to one side as each crayon was chosen with great care. He was intent and lost in the work of his Masterpiece. A few feet away, in what must be one of biggest sand boxes they had ever seen- was a young mother and her son.
They were playing with dinosaurs roaming the giant hills they had made by hand. Some topped with twigs and leaves to make a Jungle where a triceratops might hide, or a brontosaurus might nibble leaves forty feet off the ground. A river and lake were fashioned from water taken from their water bottles. Some of the dinosaurs were stuck in the mud.
Pterodactyls swooped and soared in the hands of the young mother….desperate (and futile) lunges into the air were made by the tyrannosaurus held in the chubby fingers of the four year old boy. Watching all of them from his perch on a swing, was an old man with the most comforting smile on his face.
Debbie’s husband reached for another crayon. His brow furrowed in thought. He put the blue crayon back…and selected the aquamarine one instead. It was a good choice.
Later, the old man left the park. Debbie, her husband, and little Kyle didn’t notice his departure. Each was studiously attacking the coloring book with an full frontal assault of artistic talent. Debbie had shown her small family how to sharpen a crayon using her emery board from her purse. That allowed them to make Scrivener level fine lines.
Kyle wrote his name for the first time, the letters were uneven and different sizes, the praise from his Mom and Dad was the same size…enormous. Debbie had quietly torn out her husband’s colored Art work and folded it neatly. She would frame that later, hang it in their bedroom, and smile every time she looked at it. He had done it all himself while she and Kyle played in a Jurassic Park they had contracted themselves.
His shy revelation of it to her and Kyle was one of the best moments she had all year. She saw the little boy pride in his eyes, and the love…when she ogled the easy blend of colors. It was well done.
Debbie’s husband, quietly folded one of her colorings too. It wouldn’t go in a frame. It would go in his wallet. It wasn’t anything special…really. Except to him. It was a beautifully colored tree, with a heart carved into it. Inside the heart were his and Debbie’s initials - and a plus sing. Underneath the drawing on the trunk of the tree was one word: FOREVER.
He had reached over to squeeze Debbie’s hand when he saw her work. She had squeezed his hand back. Then she leaned over and kissed him full on the lips. Until little Kyle’s disgusted: “Yuck!”. That made them puff laughter into each other’s mouths.
Later that summer, they stopped to look. The old man was sitting at the picnic table with what looked to be a young woman in her late twenties. In the sand box was a young man about the same age, and a little girl about four or so. They were playing with dinosaurs.
The old man was handing something to the young woman.
It was a coloring book.
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- 4
Valerie Allen
08/20/2023An enjoyable story! Gotta love the kids and doing kid stuff with them - better yet they can go home with their mommy and daddy at the end of the day~
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
08/20/2023Thanks Valerie!
Yeah, having a Mom and Dad to go home with is a gift.
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Steven W Kimball
03/12/2021Loved it. Good intentions show themselves in the strangest and most simplistic ways. Well written.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
03/12/2021Thanks Steven,
It doesn't take much to be kind, does it? Hope you have a great day.
Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Gail Moore
03/08/2021Kevin, this is an absolute masterpiece. Well worth the read.
I think I must be the biggest kid of all. I roll around on the floor with the grandkids and become a child every time I'm around them.
I want them to remember me as a happy person that cares deeply for them. Not a granny that sits on social media with no time for them.
Social media has a lot to answer for.
Kids grow so fast and if you don't spend time with them when they are little you won't get the chance.
Life goes by in a flash just like a childhood. Give them great memories.
Thanks for my story of the day. :-) 10 stars
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
03/08/2021Gail, thanks for the kind words. And I couldn't agree more! Nanny's Grandma's, Pop Pops and Grampa are all supposed to just play with the kids. I can't roll around any more (even tho I am rounder now) but Kathy can get right down on the floor and play. And she does.
My surgeries put an end to my chasing them around...but soon, well, I can at least pretend run after them! I am glad your kids and grandkids have you and your Hubby. And Kathy's joy at being a grandmother is something special to see.
Thanks again. Smiles, Kevin
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