The Boy Who Drew a Well
A few months later, we met. I was expecting him to have much to say, but he just sat there quietly. After waiting for a while, I said, “Do you have anything to tell me?”
He took deep breath and went, “Hhaihhhh….”
I waited for him to say something after that, but he just sat there. I waited a while longer, then said, “If you have anything, just tell me.”
He took another deep breath and went, “Hhaihhhh….”
I waited and waited, and still nothing else came out of him. Obviously he came to see me for a reason, but he wasn’t saying it. So, what was I supposed to do?
Then, I remembered something I happened to read about just about two weeks ago: art therapy. So, I gave him a piece of paper and a pen. (I wasn’t prepared with colouring stuff.) And I said, “Whatever you want to draw, just draw.” Then I left him alone.
After a while, I went over and looked at what he drew. I wasn’t very sure what it was, so I asked him, “What is this?”
“It’s a well.”
Wow! He spoke! I asked further, “Is there any water in it?”
“No. It’s dried up.”
“Does this well represent you?”
“I suppose so.”
My heart sank a little, then I asked, “Are you thinking of dying?”
He nodded.
We then just sat there quietly.
After some time, I asked, “Anything else you want to tell me?”
“No more.”
“Okay then.”
Then he got up and left.
Then, I took a deep breath and went, “Hhaihhhh….”
Comments
Post a Comment