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The black one was felt or somethin". It had soft stuff behind it. The little pieces were felt too and they stuck like magic. I don"t know for sure what made the most magic, the picture pieces that stuck, the voice of the lady, or if it was in the words themselves. All i know for sure is that to me- they were magic.
Every week my momma would go to work and i would stay with my nannie. Granddaddy would get home before momma came to pick me up and i would pester him for a story. Finally he said i was old enough to tell him stories. I told him very matter of factly that i could not tell him stories with out a storyboard, thinking this was a good way to get me one of my very own. My granddaddy was a little smarter than me though an" the next day he came home with a box of colors and a roll of butcher paper. .
I was disappointed at first, but not for long. He would roll out the paper across the floor and i would lay on it on my belly. I would draw the pictures and scoot along the paper as i went. When my story was all done i would stand up and tell granddaddy that it was story time. .
I would stand in front of him proudly. reading him my story. The paper would move through my hands as i went like a waterfall of picture words. The pictures made such beautiful words that i never wanted to stop. .
And then.
As they say, all good things must come to an end, and this was no exception. . Momma started talking about something called kindergarten. She said it was going to be fun, with lots of other kids and lots of stories. I asked her if i could take my paper and colors with me and she said i would be taking different paper and something called a pencil. I asked her if granddaddy could come with me and she said no, he was too big. .
Well, i was very excited to go to the store with momma and buy the paper. I wasn"t real sure what a pencil was but if i could use it to make magic stories then i was sure i was going to like it.