Sometimes, I take the little things for granted, and today, I'm expressing gratitude for one of those little things. Since kindergarten, Crayola and other brands of inexpensive colorful crayons have been a part of everyday life. Sometimes brand new with conical points and fresh paper wrappers, sometimes worn into rounded pieces with bits of dust and debris imbedded in the sides, they work from start to finish. There's something cheerful and promising about a brand-new box, the crayons in neat rows, a choir of colors. There's something reassuring when you can find somewhere in the junk drawer in the kitchen, or in your desk, a few weathered strays. They're present in restaurants to give restless kids something to do, they're in your box of supplies as school starts at the end of summer. Crayons are really wonderful, like paint that you can hold in your hand, no drying necessary. From ages two to one hundred and twenty-two, rich or poor, anyone can be an artist.