Pen Only

Imagine the scene: A near full art room, bedecked with students sitting at the tables in bunches, still seems nearly devoid of success. The kids (including me) just keep saying how much they hate their work. We were supposed to be drawing a portrait, but we hadn't really been instructed on how to draw yet, so we were lost in a twister of eyes and philtrums and cheekbones, swirling around us without bothering to slow down so we could trace their stupid contours. Needless to say success was varied; while R copied C's widespread eyes and slim cheeks perfectly, A ran into difficulty when he needed to re-do a nose. We were only allowed to use pen, though, so there was no going back.

We started with the eyebrows. The two kids who went on to the eyes had to start over, so the rest of us took caution, and to be safe, just kept staring at our model's brow. I had never noticed the way in which L's inner eyebrow pointed down like an arrow, while her outer broke off in elegant steps. Over and over, I ran the tip of my ballpoint over the dark lines. When I finally looked down, there it was: a perfect eyebrow - that looked nothing like L's. Apparently M was having the same problem, because he waved Mr. T over and asked, "Does this look at all like J2?"

"Not yet," responded Mr. T, in his cynical, satirical, eccentric, and - let's just say it - impossible-to-describe way. "But it will, once you have all the pieces on the page."

So, my turn: Does today look at all like a day from a happy, successful person's life?
Not yet. But it will, once all the days are on the page.
In our lives, time races on, and we can't re-do any of it. Like the portrait, we are only allowed to use pen, so there is no going back.