Day 11 A Sketch Accross Borders

Most mornings I slip out of the room while Donna sleeps in. A cappuccino, a croissant, and my tiny sketch pad — that’s my little ritual. By the time I reached the lounge, a couple of early risers had already claimed their “morning wombs.” I settled into mine.

We were in Ilok, Croatia.

Across from me sat a stout gentleman with official-looking paperwork neatly spread out in front of him. We exchanged a polite “good morning.” His presence felt steady, focused — the kind of quiet confidence that comes from years of doing an important job. I had a suspicion he was part of the border police who would soon be reviewing and stamping our passports before we left Croatia.

A few sips into my cappuccino, I pulled out my sketch pad. I tried to be subtle — looking around him but also looking at him.
Short hair. Heavy workman pants — almost green-jeans. A sweater with reinforced shoulders, almost military but not quite. He studied his documents with a seriousness that left an impression.

I drew lightly, quickly, just capturing what I saw.

A while later he gathered his things. We nodded our “good days.” Donna appeared to take me to breakfast. As I stood, I tore the sketch out and left it on the table beside his notebooks and satchel. I knew he’d be back.

After breakfast, Donna headed to our room, and I returned to the lounge. My quiet friend had returned — now joined by two comrades.

As soon as I sat down he looked up, genuinely moved.

“Thank you for the drawing,” he said. “In ten years on the job, nobody has ever done such a thing for me.”

He asked for my room number.

“307.”

“I will give you a gift to your room,” he said.

I smiled. “Thank you.”

Our day moved on. Donna and I explored the small village of Ilok, then the Rinda continued toward Vukovar. My quiet friend most likely returned to his duties.

After our bus excursion and dinner, we walked back to our room — and there it was: a small package resting on our bed.

Donna was puzzled; she had no idea what happened that morning. I didn’t know exactly what was inside either, but I knew the heart behind it — a simple, sincere thank-you.

Inside were two small jewelry boxes addressed to both of us — pins of the iconic water tower destroyed during the war, a symbol of Croatian resilience. And tucked beside them were two small sketchbooks: pocket-sized, bright white, smooth paper — even nicer than the little book I brought with me.

I couldn’t help but smile.

We brightened each other’s day, two strangers sharing a small moment of kindness across a sketchpad and a border table. Maybe that drawing is now pinned to a bulletin board near his desk. And my new sketchbook? It’s already in my pocket — waiting to capture the next moment in time.

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