Dads drawing

As Claire goes to get her bag, I notice that one of the papers from the magazine has an ad for a new job opening where I lived. It read, "Fantasy novel writer needed urgently for TV show collection." I had always loved to write and make believe plays, screen plays, and rehearsing them to my sister to entertain each other. After all, I was looking for a better job. I showed Claire and she gave me a big smile and a thumbs up. Where I lived in Brevard, we had free education, which is a wonderful opportunity for Claire, but I don't have a car, and the school is pretty far away. Therefore I would have to ride the bus with her, and I have the worst bus sickness. I got it from mom, who would throw up at even the thought of being on a bus with other stinky people. Mom was always a big introvert, and she didn't really like people, until she met dad. Dad was an extrovert who devoted his life to communicate with people. That was his job, as a translater, he would fly to many places to help with nations of people who spoke different languages, mostly Spanish. Mom and dad were very different. "Found it," Claire yelled form behind, "My bunny bag!" I bursted out laughing when I saw it. It was an old looking bag with two bunny ears and goggly eyes that rolled everywhere when you moved it around. I remember that was the bag she would take everywhere when we were little. She did that because I glued to goggly eyes on as a joke one day before she went to school, and it made her entire day better. "Aww! I can't believe you still have that old thing, haha!" "Heyyy don't make fun of Mr. Snuggles." Her backpack was also her only real childhood treasure that she would also use and a hug pillow because it was more like a pillow pet than an actual bag. "You sure you're gonna be able to fit everything in that?" She nodded ferociously. I helped her pack everything in her bag and all the treasured items in the glass case on her shelf. There were things such as the straw and stick voodoo doll we made together the day mom scared us, so we ran off and found a patch of hay where we made the voodoo doll and told each other whenever mom was mean to us, we would hurt the doll, to hurt her. Mom found us the next morning and we didn't eat for two days after that. While Claire kept stuffing everything into Mr. Snuggles, I found something on her shelf that I didn't notice before, something really dear to me. It was the picture dad drew of me, just a couple weeks before Claire was born. Dad was a really very talented artist, and he even had a college major in art, but he decided to go back to college because he wanted to study language instead. I remember asking him why he stopped painting, and he said, "My dear Crimson, I won't ever stop painting. It is only curiosity and adventure that draws me to learn about language, but painting will forever be a part of me." I remember every part about that day. The very words he said. The way he said them. Though I often forgot his face, and can't remember it that well in my memory, which is why I re-draw it as often as I can. Claire looked up at me when she was done cramming things into her bunny bag. "I remember that! That's the picture dad drew of you when you were my age!" "Yes, it is. Do you remember why he drew it?" Claire nodded. "In honor of my birth, so I could keep your face forever in my mind. When you came here yesterday after 4 long years, I almost didn't recognize you. You were so tall and pretty, I thought you were a lady here to take me to foster care, because I was found out about or something. But then I was even more shocked when I found out it was you!" I laughed and brushed Claire's hair with my fingers. "What feature made you recognize me the most?" "Well for one definitely your eyes, but I only noticed them after seeing your hair. I remembered instantly that we made a promise to keep our hair that long, and plus yours is red, so it really felt like you." We both looked at each other's hair and smiled at how proud we were to have kept it long together, after we were separated. That's the one thing that started to bond us together when Claire was old enough. Our hair both grew fast and beautiful. We got it from out other Aunt Beatrice, who lived in London. We never met Aunt Bee, but she really inspired us to grow our hair together. After seeing hers so long and shiny in a picture from high school, we felt it was the most magical thing we'd ever seen. Aunt Bee was the only successful one out of her sisters. She got a job as a fashion designer and became a bit famous, then married when she was 21, and left her sisters and family to go to Boston. Then she had 4 kids and moved to London. As far as we know, she's still doing better than ever as one of London's top fashion designers. "Well let's not cut it! If it's what has kept us together when we were apart, I say we keep it!" "ONLY IF YOU BRUSH IT BECAUSE I'M TIRED OF BRUSHING IT ALL DAY!" I rolled my eyes. "Okay okay I'll brush your hair but hey that gives you something to do!" Claire burped out loud at my face and then took her bag to the little slot in her toy chest to hide it there so Aunt May couldn't find it. "Crimson, I'm ready as I'll ever be." She spit in her hand and I spat in mine and we shook hands. We were prepared to leave by dawn.