CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 33: THE FIRST DRAWING
One rainy afternoon, I opened the drawer where I had hidden the sketchbook.
The empty one my mother had given me.
I stared at it.
Then I opened to the first page.
I hadn't drawn in years.
My hand shook.
"What are you doing?" my mother asked from the doorway.
I looked up.
"I don't know."
She walked into the room and sat beside me.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then I picked up a pencil.
One line.
Then another.
An hour passed.
When I finally looked up, I had drawn the kitchen.
The table.
The flowers.
The window.
Nothing extraordinary.
But it was mine.
My mother stared at the page.
Tears filled her eyes.
"It's beautiful."
I laughed.
"It's a table."
"It's your table."
I looked at the sketch again.
Something inside me felt lighter.
For years, I thought I had lost this part of myself forever.
But maybe dreams don't disappear.
Maybe they simply wait.
That night, I placed the drawing inside the sketchbook.
On the back, I wrote:
May you like
Day One.
It felt like the beginning of something.
