Summary

A child's innocent drawing of a new friend named Sisyphus leads to a misunderstanding when the mother accuses her of making fun of him, causing distress and a lasting regret for the author as an adult.

Abstract

In a nostalgic recounting, the author describes a childhood incident at their mother's workplace in New York, where they befriended an adult named Sisyphus. The child, feeling happy and inspired, drew a picture of Sisyphus, only to be harshly reprimanded by their mother for supposedly mocking him. The accusation, made in front of the mother's colleagues, led to public embarrassment and a profound sense of injustice for the child, who was simply trying to express friendship through art. As an adult, the author reflects on this event with empathy for their mother's struggles, yet still wishes to apologize to Sisyphus for the misunderstanding and to revisit the cherished memory of that cozy, jazzy downtown office.

Opinions

The author harbors no ill will towards their mother, recognizing her paranoia and difficult life experiences.
The author values the memory of the office and the friendship with Sisyphus, despite the negative outcome of the drawing incident.
The author believes that their mother's reaction was not malicious but stemmed from a place of overprotectiveness or personal insecurities.
The author wishes to make amends for the past misunderstanding, indicating a lasting emotional impact from the event.
The author encourages readers to support their work financially, suggesting a personal investment in their writing and a desire for reader engagement.

Sisyphus

He tried to make a little black girl laugh, but it didn’t turn out right.

He made me giggle, and I was so happy I made a friend at mama’s beautiful work place.

It was a dark little nook in New York. So cozy, so classy. So downtown jazzy. Shiny wood was all around.

So I found a piece of paper on mama’s desk and a pen.

And I sketched out my new friend

S-I-S-Y-P-H-U-S.

Showed him and mama my drawing, because I was proud of it!

He laughed. He liked it.

Mama didn’t.

She yelled and got mad.

“You’re making fun of him!” Mother accused.

“No I didn’t!” I defended as tears welled up my eyes. Had I done something bad and not known it?

The other people at the little office turned to watch. Poor Sisyphus was sitting right there.

“Why did you draw his glasses crooked? And you made him fat. You made him ugly!”

My mouth hung open in shock, and I started crying uncontrollably. It was only then that my mother realized she was making a spectacle of herself in front of all the good white folks she worked with.

But it took a lot to get me to calm down. Not only had she criticized my drawing skills and accused me of being a brat that insults adults. But she said I thought my new friend was fat, with crooked glasses, and ugly!

That’s what hurt me most of all. She had embarrassed my new friend and accused me of making fun of him when I didn’t. I just wanted to draw him a picture.

Now as an adult, I know my mother suffered from paranoia and often accused me of doing things or attributing negative meanings to the things I did. She had a hard life, so I don’t hold it against her.

But boy, I wished I could tell Sisyphus sorry for the misunderstanding.

And visit that beautiful brown stone office in New York. Just one more time again!

❤️

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