Tricia Times



When I was 12 years of age, a nun, named Sister Thea, had our entire classroom scribble a design onto a sheet of construction paper then find an object within the design from which to make a landscape. In my design, I had found a slipper that was gently sweeping among a forest floor of leaves. I drew and colored each leaf on my sheet of paper in brilliant autumn colors. The slipper took on a deep rich crimson red. Sister Thea loved my drawing, stating hands down I had taken first place in art class. I had a choice of icons as a prize and chose my favorite (as a child) which was the Infant of Prague. I ran all the way home from school in anticipation of showing my parents my drawing and statue. Upon arriving home the first person to see my picture was Maryann. I was so excited to show it to her and tell her how I had won first place and received a statue that I couldn't contain my joy. Maryann became extremely agitated while holding my drawing in her hands and proceeded to rip my picture into hundreds of scraps. I was in disbelief and while crying began to crawl on the floor desperately trying to gather the pieces in hopes of putting it back together for my parents to see. As a child I didn't grasp how anyone could be so cruel, as an adult I realized how jealous and inferior Maryann felt and that any achievement of mine was an affront to her.

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