Puzzled at first, as though he's wondering-did I?
Elliot smiles with a sheepish grin, "I don't know."
He continues to giggle as he walks away saying,
"I'd probably be way over my last line on the wall by now."
"Okay, heals to the edge. Elliot, get off your toes. I see that you know. Look straight ahead. Okay, there we go. Step away, let's take a look. Wow! Look, this time last year you were all the way down there! Look how much you've grown."
"Can we do it again mommy?"
The wall. The wall that I drew little pencil lines on. I don't have it. I'll never get it back. The lines that stretched from near the baseboard and slowly climbed the corner.
It was yellow.
These walls are gray and white.
We painted that wall yellow. I always wanted a yellow kitchen. It somehow seemed fresh and bright to me. Afterward, I wished I had done an ocean blue or seascape color scheme. But now, I just miss the yellow. The chipped yellow wall with smudgy pencil marks.
Yes, Elliot, you would have definitely surpassed your last line. We know. That's good enough. But this is not my wall.