When he was born, Zion looked like a baby bird who had fallen from its nest. We could see through his skin, which hung from his tiny bones in wrinkled, papery folds. I held all four pounds of him (he was full-term, you remember) and I looked into his handsome face no bigger than an apple, wondering what wondrous thing he would grow into.
I am beginning to see.
Lately it has become clear that Zion loves art. He literally needs to create.
"Try combing for a great texture," he read. "Mama, I'm going to do THAT." So off to the bathroom he went and when he returned he was carrying a comb. Bright did comb his paint, for a second or two, and then he decided to move on to something else. Zion, however, took that comb and went to town.
The finished product? "Sunset," by Zion Rupp.