Crumpled Dreams & Hueless Colors

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Crumpled Dreams & Hueless Colors

The little girl sat down beneath an old, oak tree with nothing but a piece
of paper and a pencil. She had sat there so many times before creating works
of art that lay lifeless; just etches on worn out parchments. In her mind
the little girl could fathom the most beautiful worlds, alive, with song,
and laughter. They were worlds of rainbows, blue skies, evergreen trees and
purple flowers. But to her disappointment she could never give life to her
dreams on the paper on which she drew. She would look around to the hillside
which spanned before her and all the beauty of it but it all seemed like
just a picture out of a story book. It was like something she could view but
never experience. She wished she could make the worlds in her  mind come
alive but she could not do so even on paper. She hung her head in sorrow;
feeling the dejection of another day of lost dreams. 

The man approached her silently and then kneeled down beside her. He had
watched her for some time; day after day; how she always left full of sorrow
and with a head hung low. He didn't see how such a beautiful young girl
could always seem so sad. Where was her life, her smile; where did she lose
her laughter? He would watch her as she would sit etching for hours beneath
that old, oak tree. She would draw, crumple up, and then throw away each
work she did until she left ; weary of trying. One day he had visited the
oak tree after she left and picked up all the crumpled papers she had left
behind. One by one he uncrumpled them and as he looked at them he too began
to sense this little girl's frustration. He took them home, laid them the
table, then went into town with the little remaining money that he owned. He
returned a long while later, laid a package beside her pictures, and then
waited for the following day. 

So there he knelt beside this little girl who cried silent tears and held
another crumpled work of art. He lifted her head gently with love and
compassion until he could see into her saddened eyes and without ever saying
a word he took a package from his pocket, placed it in her hands, and then
smiled. He left her staring at the object of wonder which lay in her hands
and then vanished into the hillside; watching from afar.

It took the girl a few minutes before she dare to touch her gift. Tenderly
and with much care she began to unfold the cloth of lace which held her
treasure. Lifting the last fold she beheld the most beautiful site she
seemed to have ever seen. There in the center of the lace lay three, bright
and beautiful crayons. She hardly dare to touch them but they seemed to
beckon her unceasingly. 

The man watched anxiously from a distance. One by one the little girl picked
up her crayons and began again her work of art. With every mark on her paper
the frown on her face began to fade. The strokes on her paper came quicker
and quicker while her heart raced inside of her. The man watched as she
paused for a moment and looked wide-eyed at her creation. Then a smile broke
across her face from ear to ear and he heard her squeal with delight for the
first time. She rushed back to her work stopping from time to time to admire
her new world. Then she began to sing a song while she worked; a song
sweeter than the birds could dream. 

As the man continued to watch tears crept into his eyes and made rivers
around the corners of the smile on his face. What was it that had made this
little girl so happy? What was it that allowed her to sing again and laugh
freer than the wind? He wasn't sure if it was the gift he gave her, the
visit he paid her or the smile he gave her.  Perhaps it was all three. Or
perhaps it was just that the dull, lifeless etches on her paper could now be
brought alive by the colors that dreams are made of. She could now throw
away the dull, gray  pencil that had sucked the life out of her dreams and
now the rainbows, blue skies, evergreen trees, and purple flowers could live
more than just in her head but now in her life. Her dreams could become
reality if nothing more than just on her paper. And all because someone made
a sacrifice to bring her a simple crayon.

No matter what the reason the man knew in his heart that he would have made
that trip to town a thousands times over just to see her smile again. This
time when the little girl left the tree that day there weren't any
discarded,  crumpled dreams left to blow away with the wind because she took
them all with her, except for one which she left on the tree. It simply said: 

"Love is to bring color to those who dream in black and white". 


Sis.Colleen