This Father's Day, I fondly remember one of Dadee's motley artwork.
Sometimes, all you need is a little splash of color. - Unknown
Dadee was making a Filipiniana drawing for my fifth grade Social Studies class. You know - one with a nipa hut, rice field, a farmer, a mountain for background, and a carabao.
Koloran mo pag tapos na, ha? Can you color it in after it's all done? I was chattering away like a bird as I handed him my 16-count Crayola box.
Sige, tulog ka na. Go to bed now. I'll do it. His mild voice was reasonable and final.
Bright and early the next morning, racing against a chorus of manic dogs running about, I ran to the kitchen table. Dadee always delivered, so I was excited.
Are you curious? Do you want to see what it looks like?
Oh, good.
Ta-da! Can you chime in with an opinion? You certainly can't ignore its exuberant burst of color, right?
The sky looked like a mad painter's canvas, as if halfway through, the artist decided against blue and splashed ochre and crimson on the palette. Silhouetted against it was a bright yellow-orange kite being flown by a farmer with an orange sambalilo hat.The land was purple and lush, the blue grass rippling in the breeze. Rays of sunlight were stretching violet fingers across the top of an orange-colored nipa hut. Lazily ambling back and forth over lumps of hard clay, breaking it down so that a new field could be made, was a carnation-pink water buffalo.
I broke into a cackle of a laugh.
The entire scenery was a sprawling expanse of divergent colors, like the dawning of the world. I couldn't wait to bring it to school. I couldn't wait to be the talk of the fifth grade class.
The years seem almost a blank now, like the strange calm patches you sometimes get in a cloudy sky, a moment of waiting, of forgetfulness. But there are things I never really forget.
Not for a moment.
Not that unique work of art that Dadee created with every ounce of passion in his heart.
For me, it easily gets first prize in the Filipiniana art awards. And just between us, doesn't it look like a shoo-in for display at the museum of contemporary art? I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Because it's perfect.
Because it's one-of-a-kind.
Every single discordant and quirky detail becomes front and center in my mind every time I think about it. I become ten years old again, on the cusp of all the possibility and wonder and good things in the world.
And I feel, as I did then, that the future, clad in motley colors, has just brightened even more.
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