When I was five years old, I remember waking each morning and looking out the window of the bedroom I shared with my sister. Was it raining? Was it sunny? I would check the weather through my bedroom window to see if it was a good day for sidewalk chalk. Each morning, if the weather permitted, I would race down the large, long staircase to the kitchen. After gobbling down some Cherrios, I ran outside with my chalk and started drawing.


The pathway leading to my door was long and winded through and around a garden in the front of my house. This of course was the prime spot for drawing. Another location that was perfect, in my mind, for sidewalk chalk was the actual sidewalk by the road. Alas this location was not preffered by my mother who thought it necessary to show my sister and I the boundaries of where we could go in our lawn. She didn’t want us to get too close to the road. It was fairly busy, so I usually drew on the walk up to my doorway.


I remember most, if not all, of my drawings consisting of rainbow colors usually in that order as well. Rainbow hearts, rectangles, triangles, squares, and circles filled our walkway. I drew on the sunny days and when the rain streaked the window panes in my room, I waited. I couldn’t wait to see the lovely blend of my rainbow shapes. Sometimes, I would grab my red rainboots and dance in the puddles of color, twirling my umbrella so the rain drops would slide across the top and drip off the edges even faster. Then when the rain stopped and the sun rose over our house again, the mix of shapes would dry and I would stand back and admire my masterpiece. With help of the sun and the rain, I had completed our entire walkway and the result was wonderfully uplifting.