A Colorful Mind

Tap, tap, tap, tap. The rhythm of the pencil against the mahogany table once again steals a piece of my focus. Mmmmmmm. The distant hum of the television in the hearth takes another chunk. I side-eye the burgundy curtains in our tuscan-style dining room and my mind bursts into color. Pink and purple clouds capture the sun's light --the rays ricochet off of every particle of moisture in the sky to create a rainbow that’s trapped in one spot. Beautiful. Characters with spiky hair and cartoon eyes fight on the candy green grass, their movements sharp and exaggerated. I need to draw that. Scenes of jungles and strange creatures with mixed characteristics from different animals. I can see the scene now! This would go perfect in my portfolio for--

“NOAH!”

I jumped hard enough to hit my knee on the table and my heart skipped two beats. I had to grab it. 

“Mama, you scared me.”

“Did you hear anything I said to you?”

“Uh… I don’t think--”

“Okay, pay attention and tune in when I speak, get your head out of the clouds and come back. What have you accomplished so far? You’ve been sitting here for an hour and it looks like you’ve done nothing. So what’s up? What’s the hold up?”

I just look back and forth from her face to my nearly blank word document. I don’t even know what to say to her that wouldn’t make her irritated with me right now. Well, it seems the damage has already been done, and she’s not blind; she can see what I’m clearly seeing, and that is a complete lack of production so I might as well just be honest.

“I don’t know, I just zoned out.”

She sighed and pursed her lips --obviously irritated. I hate when she makes that face. I hate when anybody makes that face. It’s like an ‘oh my goodness’ type of face. It makes me want to disappear every single time.

“Well zone back in because you’ll be up all night finishing this homework. Isn’t it due tomorrow? What class is it for?”

“Yes ma’am, it’s due tomorrow. It’s for AP US History.”

“Okay well get it done.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She walked away and I looked back at my computer screen. What on earth was I even supposed to be doing. I could feel my mind pulling away again, so I got up to use the bathroom. Maybe that will refresh me. I’ll grab some water or something too, that will do it.

I have ADHD. That’s Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorder. It’s really hard to focus, it’s really hard to do most things. Time is nonexistent. I have a hard time grasping it. I don’t know how it passes and I don’t understand the concept that much. I just know that during the day there’s light, and during the night there’s darkness. I take way too long getting ready in the morning, I start things and don’t finish them because I forget or get distracted, and I struggle in school with writing and reading. It’s just too many words, I have to sit for too long, and I can’t remember what I read anyway, so what’s the point. I’m in the 10th grade and I still misspell words that I should know. I try to remember that it’s not my fault --that it’s not me who is broken. I just think differently.

I’m an artist. I can draw my butt off, honestly. It’s one of the only things I really excel at. I play basketball, but I started taking it more seriously later than most of my teammates, so I don’t really play in games much. Plus, the height aspect isn’t exactly on my side. I’m in, like, the 20th percentile in height for boys my age. I could be really good if time was invested into me like it was for my sisters. My oldest sister was a natural athlete. She seemed to learn everything really fast. She’s strong and has a high IQ for basketball and soccer. She’s in college now --and jokes on my dad --she didn’t play either of her sports in school. She’s going purely as a student on academic scholarships. That’s another thing, she’s incredibly smart. Both of my sisters are. If my dad would just invest in me like he did with her, I’d be really good. But that’s a conversation for another day.

I close the door to the bathroom and take my seat back at the dining room table.

“Noah, I don’t hear any typing!”

“That’s because I just sat down. I had to go to the bathroom.”

“You’ve been in the bathroom for 10 minutes! You’re going to mess around and not finish.” I don’t respond to her.

I wake up to the sound of my alarm. 7:00 a.m is what it says on its face. I didn’t go to bed until midnight last night. I can feel how swollen my face is. I drag my feet to the edge of my mattress and slide out. On my way out of the house, I can hear my dad say “Let’s go boy”, not realizing that I beat him out of the door like I do most mornings. I don’t know who he thinks he’s rushing. I don’t ever say anything because if I do, he’ll think I’m disrespecting him. I’ve learned how my father feels about his children speaking up from observation.

Remember the oldest sister I was talking about? She’s 20-years-old, so she has a lot to say. She calls my dad out all of the time for his shortcomings, but he doesn’t receive them well because he’s stubborn and lacks empathy. They both end up getting angry, and I really think it takes a toll on their relationship. I just want to be accepted and encouraged by my dad, so I try to avoid stuff like that. I don’t have any room to make him angry with me.

I put my backpack down at the desk I normally sit at next to my friend, Mason, and I take a deep breath. Release.

“NOAHHHH! What’s up bro!”

“Hey Mason, what’s up man.”

“You good fam?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired. I was up all night doing a paper.”

“What class was it for?”

“Mr. Pearson’s class.”

Mason and I have a couple of classes together this year. Last year, we had almost every class together. We have AP US History together this year, so he had to write the same paper. I think he finished a couple of days ago, though, because he already got his grade back. He got a C on it.

“Oh yeah I got a C on that. I really thought I did better than that when I turned it in. But hey, it is what it is. What do you think you made on it?”

“I don’t even know. I really don’t even remember what I wrote about to be honest with you.”

“How do you not remember what you wrote about?” He laughed and patted me on my back. “I want to be like you when I grow up Noah. Watch you make an A on that shit.”

I smiled at him and did a little snicker. I mean, he meant well. I appreciated his interesting words of encouragement. Now the teacher was talking and I tried to look like I was paying attention. I have a hard time paying attention in this class, especially because she just talks about a bunch of things that I think are boring. I doodle a lot on the handouts. I think she likes the doodles because she always mentions them. She writes on the top of my papers, “Noah you’re a very talented artist and I love the little surprises you leave me! But I need you to complete your work.” All I see is the first part.

The bell rings and I look at my paper. Again, today, it is filled with marks and shading. Characters that seem to leap off of the page with life. I hate turning my handouts in because I like to recreate them in color at home in my sketchbook. I don’t remember anything the teacher talked about today. I’ll look at the website when I get home and maybe that will jog my memory. I wonder if we have homework.

As I walk down the hallway --well really more like gliding down the hallway --I speak to all my boys as I pass them. I’m really popular and well-liked. I get to the gym for basketball practice, and make my way to the locker room. We haven’t even started practice yet, and they’re already musty just from the activities of the day. 

“Ayeeeeee Noah’s here! What’s up little buddy!”

Bart, one of my largest teammates, came over to me and put me in a headlock. His armpits really stink and his cellulite feels really squishy against my cheek. Disgusting.

“What’s up Bart!” I shove him off of me and give him a big smile.

Coach blew the whistle which signaled us to be making our way out to the court. Practice normally lasts about 2 hours, but today was just a walk-through because we have a game tomorrow.

My sister came to pick me up. Not the oldest one, but the second oldest. I’m the youngest of us three. She’s a senior in high school, so she’s only two years older than me, but it feels like a lot more because she’s really bossy in nature. Someday, her kids are going to be very well-disciplined because she’s not going to play around with them. I can only imagine.

“Sup Noah! How was practice?”

“It was good. Coach just made us do walk-throughs because we have a game tomorrow, and then we did some running at the end.”

I could tell she didn’t really care that much and she just asked out of habit because before I could even finish my thought, she said, “Oh okay well that’s cool”, and immediately started playing her music.

As soon as I got home, I went upstairs and sat at my art table. I was just going to draw until my mom noticed I wasn’t downstairs doing homework. I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission today.

I learn in color. As I pick up my pencil and put it to the paper, I translate the pictures in my mind to the surface. I sketch and trace --shade and erase. I examine the drawing and decide it’s time to add some life to it. I got some really neat water color paint markers for Christmas and they came in skin tone colors, which are perfect for blending undertones. Before I could begin coloring in the character good, I heard the ding-dong of our home intercom. We barely use it, I don’t know why we have it. We still holler up and down the stairs. It was my mom.

“Noah what are you doing…”

Uh-oh what do I say to this. I have to be careful with my response. I could tell her I was pooping, that would buy me some time. Or maybe I could tell her I’m about to take a shower, which would be believable because I had basketball practice. The alternative would be to just tell her the truth and say I was drawing. Nah.

“I’m pooping,” I responded.

“.... You’re always pooping. Okay, hurry up and get down here. Do what you have to do so that you can do what you want to do! Plus I have to talk to you about some of your classes. You’re falling behind in--”

Blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard this before and I wasn’t going to let it get to me today. Not today Satan! I’m in a good mood, I’m happy, I feel good about myself today.

“.... so hurry up because I don’t want you going to bed at midnight again tonight. Sleep is important. I should be seeing you down here in 5 minutes OR LESS.” 

She always concludes with a demand that she thinks adds a certain harshness to what she’s saying. She really just sounds silly because her voice is so smooth. It’s not threatening at all, it’s actually kind of funny when she tries to sound like that. We all know better than to show our amusement, though.

I go ahead and put up all of my things, trying to be as quiet as possible so she won’t find out what I was really doing. I tip-toe and try to make my footsteps light on the ground, because the game room --which is where my art table is --is directly above the kitchen. I make it to my bathroom and flush the toilet and turn on the sink water. That really sells it, ya know? Just in case she’s listening for it.

I make my way down the stairs and my evening begins. Same as yesterday pretty much. My mom asks me what I’m supposed to be doing, I tell her that I’m not sure, we look over it together, she tells me I need to do better at keeping up with my stuff because it’s “my future” and I’m the one who will be “dealing with the consequences”, not her. My dad always likes to chime in with his two cents, basically repeating whatever my mom is saying, just in a deeper voice and paraphrased. I don’t know why he does that, I hear her the first time. I make it back to the dining room table, the same scene as the night before. What do you know, same ol thing. Blankety blank blank blankety blank. My mind says nothing, it thinks nothing, it sees nothing, it feels nothing. Twist twist twist twist. I have this bad habit of twisting my hair when I’m having to try to focus. I immediately begin to think about the sensation of hair between my fingers. How it feels, the way it sounds, how long it is, the way my scalp tingles. Next thing I know, I feel hands on my shoulders and I jerk my glance upwards.

“Don’t twist your hair, it’s gonna fall out.”

It’s my oldest sister. She must have just gotten home from the gym because she had on all black exercise clothes. She says she only wears black to the gym because it’s slimming and doesn’t show sweat stains, which make sense.

“How was your day? You’re the only one I haven’t seen.”

“It was good.”

“... That’s it? Was it just good? Did anything special happen? How did basketball practice go? When’s your next basketball game?”

She has a habit of asking all of her questions at once because that’s just how fast her brain moves. She’s impatient with conversation, so she would rather say everything and ask everything she’s thinking all at once and then listen to the complete response. The only problem with that is that I can’t remember every question she asks me, so I just pick one to respond to.

“Practice was good and I think our next game is Thursday night.”

“Okay okay… I’m going to try to make that one. Who do y'all play?”

“I don’t know, but it’s an away game.”

“Oh okay. Depending on how far it is, I’ll try to come.”

I just responded with a nod of the head. Even though I didn’t say anything or look up at her, she still stood there. I was waiting on her to leave, but she didn’t. I looked at her and made a face.

“What?” I asked.

I expected her to say “nothing, just looking”, like she normally does. She did little quirky things like that often. That’s one thing I really admire about her. She seems to cherish every moment and person in her life. She has this understanding that time is something you can’t get back, so she tends to relish in it, sometimes just staring at people with a smile. There’s always a loving expression, but it still makes you feel weird that someone is staring at you.

However, her response was something I wasn’t expecting. I don’t know where it came from. She told me to stand up, and she gave me a long hug. As we embraced each other, we said I love you. She whispered something to me so that no one else could hear it:

“You’re perfect. You are everything that you are supposed to be, nothing more, nothing less. With you, God is well-pleased. Where we are right now is temporary. What you have inside of you will last forever and will carry you far.”

As she pulled away, she had tears on her cheeks.

“Okay?” She smiled and rubbed my arms one more time, then walked away.

I could feel my face begin to heat up. I felt really good inside. I felt warm. Nobody had ever said anything like that to me. No one had ever described me as perfect. No one had ever told me that God was pleased with me. No one had ever told me that everything that I have inside of me, is everything that I need. For once, I felt like I was not broken, I just have a colorful mind.