it's one o'clock in the morning.

Listening to: Daughter's Lament by The Carolina Chocolate Drops

"Practice as if you are the worst, perform as if you are the best." -Unknown

Isn't it odd how we can tie memories to things? It's like a small shred of your mind wraps the object in a permanent hug, and even if you try, you can't release it. I was packing up books (millions and millions, it seems), and I found a small cardboard box with flowers on it. I opened it and a blue ribbon flung itself out, along with a red ribbon. I picked up the blue one from the floor. I had completely forgotten about those.

Best of Show. 

And the red one.

Second Place.

I remember opening the door and walking slowly across the room, looking at the hundreds of paintings turning the walls into a map of the world. My mom, dressed in her Sunday best, walked up and gave me a hug.


"Congratulations," she whispered.

I had no idea what she meant. I walked further into the room with a ceiling that dripped multiple ceiling fans. I went to Papa and he smiled at me.

"I'm proud of you," he said.

My grandmother came up behind me, smelling of flowers and joy and love and hugs. Just so you know, a grandmother doesn't have to be related to you to be your grandmother. Remember that.

We went to the back of the room. Under a ceiling fan that twirled and spiraled dangerously, a tree-lined lake clung inside a photograph on the wall. And a frilly blue ribbon was wedged on the corner of the wood.

Best of Show.

The Lord let me capture His artwork, and He blessed me by letting me get my first Best of Show. It's not like it was a nationwide exhibit, but for the three days it lasted, everyone knew my name because of Him.


Jessie Suzanne