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CHAUVET CAVE
by Marc Alexander Valle
One of the earliest memories I have of my mother is her teaching me how to spell words.
She would draw the stick figure picture and write the word beneath it.
I asked her multiple times to run this lesson for me.
My mother didn’t have a diploma, but she somehow knew the value of stimulating the visual cortex.
It didn’t raise my verbal IQ by much.
I was a decent student in mid-level classes, and I scored below average on my SATs.
I don’t know what it did to benefit my education.
I just know that if you asked me to choose between my sight or my hearing, I’d probably have to give up music.
Then there’s the story of the mother, who lifted a truck to rescue her son.
I don’t believe she did it, but I believe that she tried.
