The Child of exceptional parents

by Regis Boff

My mother would spend days working on her paintings on our dining room table. Every landscape, portrait, or animal she produced would find a spot on our walls. Even today I can see each one distinctly though I can hardly recall much else about our old house.
She painted by numbers. I am not at all certain people still do this. I would sit and watch the numbers and colors slowly produce an image. It was magic. I loved her and her talent so.