Wednesday, 25 May 2016
Cut to weeks of paint, plaster, wire and pastels, talking about ideas for his works and how he felt about the interview. Hours of sitting quietly in the house while he worked, music requests, homework be damned while he ruined clothes and sat drawing, painting, cutting until I had to force him to take a break. Trip after trip to bunnings, places for paper, places for anything he felt he needed to do the next thing.
I was already so proud of his dedication. He would sit for hours and hours while he played with ideas. Scrapped them and starting again. And I knew that whether he got in or not this was an amazing journey I got to watch him on.
Occasionally he would loose motivation. And I would talk to him about how if this was something he really wanted he needed to find ways of working through those times, but also letting him know that is he felt he had changed his mind it was ok.
I didn't want to lead his journey. This needed to be his want, not ours. And every time he pulled something together and started working again.
Today we received a letter. And on the top line it said:
And my heart melted for him ...
He did this, he worked and worked and he did this thing all by himself. And it's amazing.
Tonight as we went to bed I gushed at him about how proud I was at exactly that. How his hard work had given him something he really wanted and what an amazing lesson that is.
And he said 'you helped'
'I didn't do any of it for you'
'No but you helped me stay motivated, and you were my inspiration, you knew I could do it so I knew I could as well'
And that ... Well that is better than any any congratulations letter.