I Like Life

When my younger son was eight years old he drew a portrait of a pirate relaxing in his home. It's filled with great little touches, like a vase of flowers set on the dresser, a mouse-hole under the bed, and fancy buckles on the pirate's shoes. The pirate himself is seated on a chair in an attitude of battered dignity, displaying a hook hand, wearing an eyepatch, and with a bloody gash across his forehead. The title is I Like Life.

My favorite thing about it is the living wound, that bloody gash on the forehead. It's one thing to like life after you've sustained your hook-handed, eye-patched permanent damage, another to like it while you're still bleeding.