The Mural

The Mural

Looking up at the mural, Lisa smiled. She’d only been at the school for town meeting. During the milling in the hallways before the meeting she’d been standing next to some women discussing the large blank wall in the front lobby, and being an artist, she suggested a mural. Ten minutes later they had talked her into painting it.

The PTO had ideas about an educational theme, she hadn’t promised, but she was trying. Looking at her beginnings, there was no spark. She had three days to paint the mural, but it was going nowhere. She sat down for a rest.

She closed her eyes in frustration.

“What cha doing?” a tiny voice said.

Whipping open her eyes she saw a little girl, about five, standing in front of her.

“Where did you come from?” The school was supposed to be empty.

“You’re going to get in trouble, you’re not spos to paint on walls!”

“They told me I could paint on this one.”

“Can I paint too?” The child said excitedly.

“Where’s your mother honey?

“Don’t be silly,” she said, giggling, “you’re my mother!”

Lisa jolted awake. It was a dream! The little girl seemed so real. Lisa looked up at the painting, but her mind was still on the girl in her dream, ‘you’re not spos to paint on walls.’ Lisa knew what to paint.

As she looked up at the mural now, six years later, she smiled at the handprints, the toys, and the smiling stick figures. She had won an award for this mural, but today she was getting a bigger reward.

She looked down at her nervous five-year-old daughter, finally registering for kindergarten and said, “Mommy painted this a long time ago, for you.”