In 1977 I was in third grade and each student in my class had a box of crayons. It’s somewhat unbelievable to me that I actually still have them, but I do. I found them in a box at my mother’s house after she died. She had saved it for all those years. Here’s a picture of it, taken just a few days ago:
Now she didn’t know this, but these crayons were part of a highly significant moment in my life. One I had forgotten for years. I had always liked coloring and artsy things in school up to that point, but couldn’t really draw.
I was given a coloring book for my birthday that year and immediately grabbed my crayons and started into it. I loved to color. The subject matter was a bit dull, but at least it looked like something. When I tried to draw from scratch it always just looked like a mess to me.
Anyway, right then, while coloring in that book, with these crayons… enjoying it but bored with the subject matter… I made a wish.
I wished I could color something I made myself.
Here’s another picture. It’s of me, coloring that book, with those crayons, on that day that I made a wish that came true.