I don’t know how old I was when I first consciously acknowledged my satisfaction from creating new things.

My earliest “picture” memory of the happinest I felt from creating dates back to around my fifth birthday, when my Aunt Audrey taught me how to write my name.

Both St. Nick and the Easter Bunny were fond of leaving us crayons and coloring books. With seven kids in the family, you can imagine our supplies often ran slim. Fresh crayons and new coloring books always brought on warm happy feelings. By now I was no stranger to “coloring in the lines”.

This day was different and my whole world changed, it seemed.

Image of my name in manuscript font

With a crayon, I diligently copied the shapes of the letters Audrey drew for me, spelling my name.This is my first memory of drawing.

I suppose then, it is also my earliest self-portrait moment memory…

since I drew shapes that when combined, symbolized me.

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