Writing Outside the Lines

When I was little, my mom used to sit in the back seat with me during those long car trips to our cabin so we could color together. She was quite the artist and would work very carefully on her own page, shading and blending the colors, while I, with the exuberance and inexperience of youth, scribbled madly all over the place on mine. When we compared pictures, hers so perfect and realistic, mine bold strokes of color without boundaries, never once did she criticize my technique or suggest I ...