Breaking the Cycle

The grandfather sits in an old worn recliner. The recliner was moved there when his wife passed away, and he moved in with his son. The grandfather sits there, rocking slowly back and forth, with his eyes fixated on one thing. He watches his grandson sitting on the floor with paper spread out everywhere. On every sheet of paper, there is artwork drawn on them. The grandson looks over his artwork with concentration, then pauses after the third viewing. The grandson grabs a blank sheet and starts on a new piece. The image is already there, and he has to put it on paper. Pencils, ink pins, and markers are spread everywhere around him in no particular order.
The Father walks in, wearing dirty and worn coveralls from the factory where he works. He has two bottles of beer in his hand as he walks over, hands his father one bottle, and then sits in his recliner. The grandfather and Father sit in their recliners, rocking back and forth slowly, then take a swig of their beer. They both exhale a sign of enjoyment, wiping their mouths off with their left hand. They both look at the son drawing a picture with precision, accuracy, and determination. He knows what the image is. He has to put it on paper.
“You know you need to break that boy of that.” Grandfather spoke, “That’s not a real job. He needs to be more like us.”
“Working at the factory, you mean? Father answered, “Hard work for hard men.”
They laugh and take another swig of their beer as they watch the grandson/son put his image on paper. The grandfather looks at him more with aggravation and dislike. He starts to rock in his chair a little bit faster.
“Just like I taught you to break out of that nonsense you were doing when you were little.” Grandfather said, “Besides, art is for sissies.”
The Father looks over at the grandfather, not surprised he said that but unsure how to react. Then the Father looks over at his son. The son overheard everything just said, his face blank, his eyes empty. The image he knew to put on paper is no longer there. Those words struck him at his core, with a knot curling up in his stomach, unsure of what to do next. At first, he waits for his Father to say something, but nothing comes out, just a look of uncertainty.
Father would not disobey or disrespect grandfather, so if he has to listen, the son should too. The son slowly starts to lower his pencil, but the images in his head vanish. The passion he had erupting in his heart for art flows out like a running river. And his dreams of becoming an artist, showing his artwork at galleries, seeing them in magazines, and walking by displays are cracking like a rock to a mirror. His dreams are no more than a fantasy, something he can only dream of now. No more than a hobby or less than that. Now he must work on being a man like his Father and grandfather. Art is for…
“You know he is a pretty good artist, Dad.” Father breaks the silence, “He has a couple of awards, trophies, and his teachers say that if he keeps this up, he can have a bright future ahead of him.”
The son looks up at his Father, eyes wide, the face of shock, in disbelief that his Father would disagree with his grandfather. Why would he do that? Grandfather made sure Father became a man so he could take care of him. So why would Father…
“Remember, I used to be a good writer. And a good cook in the kitchen helping out mom.” Father continued, “Until….”
“That was for your own good.” Grandfather interrupted, “Real men don’t belong in the kitchen. And they damn sure do write silly stuff. Hard work is for hard men.”
“And that will include art in this house.” Father said with a smile.
Grandfather waves off Father with disgusted looks as the Father takes another swig of his beer. The son looks at his Father in disbelief. The Father looks at his son with the proudest and biggest smile, then gives him a wink. Then like a dam breaking, all the hopes, dreams, aspirations, and images flood back into his mind. The knot is unraveled in his stomach. His heart is mended from the harsh words, and his true passion is reinstated. The son finds the picture he was working on and picked up where he left off.