As evening drew near, Albert was concerned about leaving the pie unattended while he slept. He got out his tools and worked to make the refrigerator a little more secure.
05.19.2021
I can’t help but relate to Albert’s over-protectiveness here. A few weeks ago, we ordered a rooftop tent for our car as an experiment in our family camping adventures. Because of the size and weight of the tent, it was delivered to our house by a freight company. The gentleman who delivered it was kind enough to wheel it by dolly to the back of our house, where I worked awkwardly later to walk it up onto our back porch. It was a day or so before a friend of mine was able to give me a hand to put it onto the car. Thankful that it was at the house but nervous that it was sitting in the open on my back porch, I checked on it through the window every time I passed by, just to make sure that it was still there. As we went out of town for an evening that weekend, I arranged a random collection of objects around the tent as a protective distraction. It must have worked, because the tent was still there when we got home, and I’m happy to say it is now bolted securely to the top of our car...where I still frequently check on it each time I pass the window.
The next morning, Albert got ready to go to work, but he could not bring himself to leave. He decided to stay home. Throughout the morning, he made several trips to the kitchen to check on the pie.
05.18.2021
As Albert stands transfixed at the threshold of his home, I have a vivid memory of a basketball game that I played in when I was in the fifth grade. I remember being called by the coach to come into the game, and I was nervous. I walked over to the scorer’s table and knelt down, awaiting the call from the referee to come onto the floor. When I’m nervous, I often will clench my fingers and toes tight. Somehow that pressure has always helped me to settle a bit. I remember walking onto the basketball court that day with my toes curled up inside my shoes.
Albert’s hand trembled as he opened the refrigerator door and he let out a sigh of relief as he saw the light green of the pie filling with the soft white of the cream atop.
05.17.2021
Albert’s reassurance at the familiar sight of the pie reminds me of driving back towards my hometown as a kid, after trips to neighboring towns or places in the countryside. The town I grew up in sat next to an interstate and was notably located at mile marker 100. I remember feeling like time in the car stretched on forever, and I often practiced my subtraction skills to keep track of how far we had to go. As I first saw the signs for Exit 100, the water tower and the familiar clusters of restaurant signs, I knew that I was almost home.
At midday, Albert closed the shop and walked home.
05.14.2021
Here comes Albert, packing in the work day and giving in to his desire to get back to his pie. Being a Friday, I am especially sympathetic to this move on his part. Many times the middle of the day on a Friday would have been enlivened with a surprise halt to work and an early return home. I can’t say Albert’s preoccupation with the pie feels like a healthy reason for closing the shop early, but more concerning things have happened...just as long as he doesn’t take it too far.
At the stationary shop the next day, Albert couldn’t keep his mind on his work. Customers who came in looking for pencils and specialty pen sets left the store frustrated after Albert murmured incoherently in response to their questions.
05.13.2021
When I look at this illustration and consider Albert, the overwhelming sense I get is that he is lost in a desert. He is bewildered, distracted, and his mind is mishandling the here and now as he entertains visions of his pie waiting at home. Even though he’s holding a box of pencils in his shop, in his current mental state, I could have just as easily plopped him down, wandering in the midst of a vast, sandy expanse.
This intersection of an illustration and thoughts of the desert brings to mind the first drawing I can ever remember making. It was a scene of an oasis in the desert that I drew on our old computer when I was in elementary school. I remember moving the mouse cursor carefully around the screen as I selected the color beige and made the rough shape of a camel or two. I selected an electric green and made the drooping leaves of a palm tree. I imagine there were men in robes and bright blue water as well. I remember it seeming amazing that I could fill pixels with colors and make an image that corresponded to an image in my mind. Drawing is still such a satisfying and often thrilling process for me, though I am glad to not be making too many drawings with the computer mouse these days.