One night in 2008, somewhere on Emerald Avenue, in probably the most aged building there, in one of its better rooms (the library, in fact, and we were so fortunate to secure it every night actually, because my coach attests, “Eh malakas ako eh!”), I sat down and drew a horse.
Let me just repeat that without the embellishments: one night in 2008, just a few blocks from where I am typing these words now, I drew a horse.
I drew a black, horse-looking horse.
I drew it with a black crayon on a white sheet of paper. I believe he was a fine dark one, I couldn’t believe I drew him!
When I was asked by my head coach why it was black, I said it’s because it’s a stallion. When I was asked next why it looked like it will run over the box (well, we were also made to draw boxes, and I placed my horse right next to my little flowering carton box), I said something like, “no, not run over, the stallion is guarding that box.” My head coach and coach then nodded in synch going, “aaahhh…”
The drawings stood for something. Personal somethings. Ideal somethings.
That night I drew with two other friends, Alvin and Suzeth. The three of us learned the meaning of each others’ drawings, as they were revealed to us by our head coach and coach.
I’m sorry but I cannot tell the symbols. The love cult might contract a hit against me. Besides, I love honoring omerta, makes me feel like I’m a gangsta.
But I guess I can squeal a few details. (Nobody reads this blog anyway, except boy-kids at work wondering why I haven’t taken the ride in the choo-choo train.)
Alvin? His drawing was ‘compartmentalized’, as our coach noted. The box, the horsey, the flower, the storm, the ladder were all lined up straight, in perfect order, left to right across his paper, like a shotgun photo-op line-up. That’s good old golden boy Alvin for you, always organized.
And Suzeth. How can I forget Suzeth’s horse?
Hers was the horse running to the box because it was being chased by lightning! She was the first one to laugh at it after our head coach pointed out the analogy behind it.
And that was three years ago. A lot has happened. Our head coach’s daughter is probably all grown up by now. Alvin’s probably already a billionaire. Our coach, last I heard, is already sort of in show business (I knew it! Dang dude! I told him he has star quality and should exploit it! Good boy!).
And Suzeth has found her fine stallion.
And I sing her this song. It was the same song to which Mrs. Lykes, who got me into the drawing club, marched in 2008.
My dear Suzeth, I wish you all the bliss your heart can contain, I wish you a happiness that will keep overflowing. I wish you strength, and grace, and love.