a picture in a thousand words

I always wanted to be an artist, to be able to draw the beautiful things I see, if only I could draw. I am no artist, I remember once I drew a picture of Roger Rabbit, freehand, I was thrilled. Too bad I lost that picture, it was actually pretty good. I started to draw a tree one day, I drew the trunk and the branches and then I started on the leaves, I drew every single leaf individually, I still haven't finished that picture, I started it almost a year ago. I guess I just have to be content with the gifts that I do posess, even if I cannot draw beautiful things using a brush, perhaps I can use words to recreate the images that I am fortunate enough to behold.
That is what I am, fortunate, to be able to see beauty in things others would not. My mother's face looks older than her years, from smoke and poor life choices, when she smiles you could trace three lines from her eyes to her hairline, and when she raises her eyebrows the creases stretch across her forehead. I have a picture of her from when she was in high school when her face was still full of life and color, it's hard to believe it is the same person, but when I look at my mother I do not see her pale leathery skin, or her laughlines or worry lines, I see the remnants of a vibrant youth and a great beauty.