A Sea on the Floor
There is a sea on the kitchen floor. It is blue, and it is very long. A boy sits beside it with a small brush. The sea is a picture on a big piece of paper. His mother steps around the paper. "No sea on my shoes, please," she says.
Today is his grandmother's birthday. She lives across the street. She likes the sea, but she cannot go there now. Her legs hurt. The boy wants to give her a picture. "What does she like there?" his mother asks. "The boats," he says. "And the birds."
He paints a little boat on the blue water. The boat has a red sail. Then he paints three birds in the sky. One bird is near the boat. Two birds are high in the sky. He paints yellow sand at the bottom. Now the picture has a beach too.
His mother brings a bag. The boy looks at the bag. Then he looks at his picture. The bag is small. The picture is big. "How can we carry it?" he asks. His mother looks at the wet paint. "First, it needs to dry. Then we can try."
Two Hands
They eat breakfast at the kitchen table. The picture stays on the floor, away from their feet. The boy eats slowly. He wants to touch the paint, but his mother stops him. "Wait a little more," she says. He looks at the clock. Then he eats the last piece of bread.
After breakfast, the paint is dry. The boy touches the yellow sand. His finger stays clean. He picks up the picture with both hands. The paper bends in the middle. He moves his hands. Now one side goes down. The little boat is near the floor.
His mother takes that side. They hold the picture between them. "We can carry it together," she says. The boy smiles. She opens the front door. Outside, the trees move in the wind. The wind comes through the door. The paper moves too. They quickly put it down again.
The boy looks at the boat. It is still there. There is no hole in the paper. His mother closes the door. "We need another way," she says. The boy puts the bag beside the picture. He can put his shoes in that bag. He cannot put a whole sea in it.
A Long Roll
"Can I make the paper smaller?" he asks. He brings one side over the other. But then he stops. The little boat is in the middle. He opens the paper again. He wants to give his grandmother a flat picture. He does not want a line across the red sail.
His mother washes the brush. The boy sits on the floor. He takes the short end of the paper. This time, he does not fold it. He slowly rolls it. The roll is wide at first. Then more paper goes around it. Soon the whole picture is in one long roll.
He lifts the roll with two hands. The paper does not bend in the middle now. "Look!" he says. His mother dries her hands and comes over. His mother holds the roll. He puts a soft piece of string around it. The string holds the paper closed. It is not tight.
The Sea Comes Inside
They walk across the street. His mother holds his hand. He carries the roll under his other arm. The wind moves his hair, but the paper stays closed. At his grandmother's door, he gives his mother the roll. Then he knocks. The door opens. "Happy birthday!" he says.
His grandmother sits in her chair. The boy takes off the string. He opens the picture on the floor. His mother puts two books on the ends. The paper stays flat. His grandmother looks at the little boat, the three birds and the yellow beach. She smiles. "A sea in my room!"
The boy sits beside the picture. "This boat is for you," he says. His mother moves the chair closer. His grandmother's feet are beside the yellow sand. "Then come and sit by the sea," she says to his mother. His mother sits on the floor too. There is room for three.
