The Drawing By Linda Stowe
My bachelor’s degree is in human development. For my family therapy class, our assignment was to meet with our family of origin and ask each member to draw a picture of the family. That is why my brother and sister and I all ended up in a deserted Camden bar one afternoon, each with a large sheet of paper and several colored markers. I must admit that my brother and sister were not aware of what I had planned for the afternoon. All they knew was that we were going to meet in a bar. After I had talked them into doing the drawings, I went out to my car to get the materials. On my way out I heard my sister say to my brother, “Does she embarrass you sometimes?”
We stationed ourselves far enough away from one another that we could not see what the other was doing and set to work. After we had finished our drawings, the three of us gathered to look at them. No two drawings looked alike. In fact, no two families seemed the same. I was shocked almost to the point of tears when I saw what my siblings had drawn.
My drawing featured everyone in the family. It was a picture of an afternoon on the farm. Dad was out in the field driving the tractor. Mom could be seen through the house window in the kitchen, presumably baking a pie. In the center of the picture was the old oak tree in our backyard. I was the largest of the three figures in the foreground. I was wearing a red dress and skipping rope under the tree. My sister was off to the side at work in a sandbox with pail and shovel, and my brother was off to the other side riding his bike. Our dog was jumping at a butterfly, the sun was shining, and everyone was smiling.
My brother’s family picture featured only three people, me and my boyfriend Jim sitting on a swing and my brother spying on us from behind a lilac bush. There was no trace of our parents or sister. My sister’s picture showed her walking out of the house flanked by our father and mother. They were all holding hands and smiling. My brother and I were not in the picture.
I still have those three pictures and occasionally come across them when looking for something else. I must admit that sometimes I get a little teary, realizing that the two people in the world that I have felt the closest to did not share the same childhood experience that I did. When you think about it, nothing can be experienced by two people in the same way. That makes me understand how unique I am but also how alone.
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Polly here.
Reading this piece was highly emotional for me.
This really struck a chord. It makes me wonder about how my siblings view me.
And the last line really tugged at my heart.
We are all viewed in different ways by different people.
We don’t know how others truly see us.
I suppose, then, we should do everything we can to be true to our own best selves.
