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I woke up one Saturday morning and told my mother that I had to go to school. Of course she was surprised because she knew very well that on Saturdays there was no school activity.

-How come you are going to school today? My mother asked me with a curious expression on her face.

-We have a special activity, I thought the teacher told you, it is something we have been planning for a long time and none of the children can miss it. Oh, and you don't need to go looking for me because Henry's dad, the gentleman who lives in the driveway, will bring me right to the front door. So you have nothing to worry about, Mom.

-Okay, are you going to have breakfast...?

-No mom, make me a sandwich and some juice to go. I'll be back in the early afternoon...

-All right...take care...

I was about four months old in the fourth grade when arts and crafts classes started. Every quarter we did a different activity, sometimes painting, sometimes fabric collages, and sometimes we made plaster figures.

In those days we were working on plaster. I remember that from the first day I fell in love with the crafts teacher, to my childish eyes she seemed the most beautiful in the world. I still remember very clearly her long, shiny black hair, which the teacher took great care of. One of her worries was that we wouldn't get it dirty with plaster, and to avoid that she would try to keep us away, and she would also put her long hair in a big paper bag, which later reminded me of the tall hats that chefs used to wear when cooking.

 As Mother's Day was approaching the teacher wanted us to make a plaster figure to give to our mothers. There wasn't much variety to choose from because we could only make the one from the molds the teacher had. There were fruit arrangements, a rooster crowing, an image of Jesus on the Cross, and a little Buddha sitting peacefully with a big smile on his lips.

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Until that moment I had never seen a Buddha, I had no idea that he was an important figure for believers in another part of the world, but I was struck by the big smile. So I told the teacher that I would make the Buddha.

All of us children were excited about the activity, giving our mother a gift made by us was a great source of pride. 

Some of my classmates were very skilled at working with plaster, they made the cast and from the first attempt the plaster set, then they easily removed the figure from the mold, sanded it and then coated it with the special plaster paint.

But for some strange reason, there were others who did not find plaster easy, including me. 

I had to make many attempts until I managed to obtain the figure. Sometimes the plaster did not set sufficiently and left a dusty surface that prevented me from working with it. It also happened to me that when I removed it from the mold, some parts broke off and once I even over-sanded and almost left the figure without an ear. 



But my teacher's rule was that with practice everything could be done, so we would all try as many times as necessary until we succeeded.

That's why that Saturday I had to go to school to finish my work, we were almost at the limit, Mother's Day would be the next day, Sunday.

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My beautiful teacher did not want any child to be left without a gift for his or her mother, so in a gesture of great generosity, which I still thank her for today, she called those of us who had not finished for Saturday. "And you will not leave here until you finish it," he had sentenced without any hesitation.

I spent the whole morning sanding with extreme care the missing parts, the teacher did not take her eyes off me and permanently made observations. When I finished, she asked me what color I wanted to paint it. I told her blue. She made a strange face because she commented that she had never seen a blue Buddha, but if it was my taste, she would respect it.

At about two o'clock in the afternoon Mr. Henry arrived to pick up his son, and we both left very happy with our gifts. Before leaving, the teacher had given us two gift bags to put them in and some small cards to write a dedication.

I asked Mr. Henry if I could leave the figure at his house to pick it up early Sunday morning. He said yes.

That night I could hardly sleep with excitement, I was anxiously awaiting Sunday morning to pick up the gift. 

When I got up, I got dressed quickly and went straight to Mr. Henry's house, I barely knocked on the door and he already had the gift in the bag. He invited me in to write the dedication.

Very slowly I walked back to my house, I had the gift tight against my chest, the least I wanted was that a stumble would make me fall to the floor.

I arrived home and went straight to the kitchen. Happy day mom, I said to my mother handing her the little buddha. She gave me a big kiss, though she looked at the figure somewhat strangely. It was the first gift I had ever made with my own hands.

For many years that little blue Buddha occupied a place of honor on the little tables that adorned the living room of the house. Then I stopped seeing it. I think that in one of the many moves my mother made, it fell and broke. But its memory remains fresh in my mind.

As always I enjoyed making the publication. Once again I thank friend @galenkp for convening this [iniative]( https://peakd.com/hive-168869/@galenkp/weekend-engagement-writing-topics-week-165) in its 165th installment.

Thanks for your time.</div>

Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)

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