A Memory Instead of a Photo

Yesterday’s window greeting still lay beside the red book. Today Flauschi slid a fresh sheet onto the table. Puschel looked at the empty page. Puschel“What is going there?” Flauschi“A memory. Tell me about a moment together that you would like to keep.”

Puschel did not have to think for long. He raised both paws and began telling her about practising the bow. About the red ribbon that had looked so simple at first. About the loop that kept slipping away. And about Flauschi waiting until he asked for a hint himself.

Puschel“For a moment, my paws couldn’t decide which one should go first.” Flauschi giggled and put the blue pencil to the paper. Puschel described an enormous knot. Flauschi drew a large, loose loop.

Puschel leaned forward a little. Puschel“It wasn’t nearly that tidy.” Flauschi“What I remember most is how we laughed.” Beside the red loop, she drew two little faces: one blue and one orange. Both were smiling.

Puschel studied the picture. In his memory, the ribbon had been much longer and his confusion at least twice as big. On Flauschi’s paper, the moment looked warm and friendly. Puschel“You’ve drawn the laughter bigger than the knot.” Flauschi nodded. Flauschi“That was the loveliest part for me.”

For a while, Puschel carried on telling the story, and Flauschi added a few more lines. Her drawing did not have to be an exact photograph. It showed what had stayed with her most clearly about their shared moment.

Puschel rested his paws happily against his tummy. Puschel“Now we have two memories of the same moment.” Flauschi“And there is room for both.” The new picture stayed beside the window greeting. Perhaps they would laugh about it again on a dark December evening.