Mural brings loved ones closer to mother and son

My 16-month-old son drags his chubby fingers along one wall of our backyard fence, stopping at each of the figures painted there.

Sawyer pokes Tinky Winky in one crooked eye, pats half-sister Sonnet on the head and kisses his favorite: “Nana,” he says. He laughs, delighted.

The mural starts at one end with a tropical island, where a crab makes a grab at the purple Teletubby while little Caitlin and Sydney do the hula.

From the image on the wall, Sawyer himself waves from the lap of his mother. Cousin Tiffany stands protectively over us both. She took care of Sawyer for a year when I first went back to work.

I drew the mural shortly before Sawyer’s first birthday, and Tiffany came behind me, inking in my pencil lines.

At Sawyer’s birthday luau in April, guests in plastic leis and Hawaiian shirts filled in the colors for their blackand-white selves, putting stripes on Tshirts and flowers on shorts.

My girlfriends are on the wall, disguised as mermaids. Tom and Amy ride a surfboard. Richard is on the front of a newspaper lying in the sand. Judie shakes Steve from a tree.

Floating underwater on the wall, Sawyer’s half-brother, Sky, wears a snorkel and holds a sign: “Fish are our friends. Eat tofu.” (He’s a vegetarian.)

Near Sky’s feet, Sawyer’s father scuba dives, wearing yellow shorts dotted with red hearts.

So far, the mural is holding up well, despite daily attacks by the sprinklers.

Every night Sawyer takes inventory of the people in his world. I watch from the back step, calling out the name of each person he touches.

I am a single mother, so it’s just me and Sawyer. Mostly, that’s wonderful. Other times it is good to know that there is an entire wall full of people who care about us.