When I was a kid, my dad (who was a doctor) would sometimes take me to the hospital to accompany him on rounds while he visited a few of his patients. I remember the light in his eyes as he showed me around the hospital and introduced me to people. He truly loved his patients and his work.
When my dad needed to visit with a few people alone, he would take me to the nurses station and find a little cubicle with an empty desk and give me sheets of blank paper, pencils and pens. It was so simple, yet truly wonderful.
He would stand next to me, beaming. I remember feeling happy to see the supplies while he was proud that I always wanted to make something.
That little space in a busy hospital where I could draw, dream and make up stories was a wonderful, magical place.
So I made my daughter a studio.
In my studio, across from my own drawing desk, I put a table, a set of drawers for supplies, and a string across the wall above her desk to hang her finished pieces. She has had that table for over a year, but now it is special because it is in her studio.
“Look I have a table!” She said when Josh came home.
A small space to make things is all a person really needs.