• I have watched the sun set a couple of times, but I have never watched the sun rise even once. I have often waited for the sun to dip in the bright sea but I have in no way looked at it emerge from the dark ocean amidst the jumbling of colors in the sky. I have observed the darkness engulf the light sky a hundred times but I have not ever perceived it the other way around. I have caught a sight of nightfall but I have not once had a glimpse of daybreak. I have seen the wonders of the dusk but I have by no means viewed the miracles of the crack of dawn. Even so, I wish I was determined enough to wake up early just to witness the glorious first light.

    A deep sigh was the only thing I offered to these thoughts for I had no valid excuse. Tiny water droplets from the sky followed by a strong blow of the wind pulled me back to reality where I comfortably sat on a wooden bench in a park just three blocks away from home with an empty plastic bottle of juice in my right hand. By this time the sun had already made its bow and the light curtains had closed but the clouds stayed on the sky to cleanse the world through its tears. Without second thoughts, I left the empty bottle behind and ran to the nearest shelter I could find. When I got in, I found my feet glued on the blue-carpeted floor of the two-story building as my eyes feasted on an array of landscape paintings hung on the cream-colored wall. A group of eight kids, guided by a middle-aged lady who must be their teacher, were heading to the exit wherein each of them held a paintbrush in their hand. The sight of the paintbrush triggered the sudden flow of one of the precious memories I chose to forget – the days with a paintbrush, a color palette and a canvas. Even so, I wish I was keen-sighted enough to see the intrusion of fate just to lead me back to my forgotten passion.

    How my hand magically followed the direction of the paintbrush as it applied color and splendor to the empty canvas, was still a clear memory to me. A tiny image of one of the wonders of the world was then captured. Time did not matter for it was the gentle brush of paint that held time in that instant. Emotions were then depicted and a feeling of satisfaction reigned over me as I slowly put down the paintbrush. How my heart leaped with joy whenever I heard a word of praise from my parents who supported me in all my endeavors, was also still vivid in my mind. No wonder I always had a pleasant feeling within me that I was good at it. So as to further enhance this gift and to realize the dream that one day I would have an easily-accessible yet elegant gallery of my own where my masterpieces would be housed, I attended various art classes. However, this dream became a fantasy when I entered the first year of high school. It was due to the instruction that we were to draw anything we please. I thought I made an excellent artwork but a lot of my classmates produced better ones. It was then that I realized that I was only acknowledged as a good artist at home but not in school. This awareness caused my bright day to become a gloomy one just as how the sunset of yesterday welcomed the dark night. From that, I came to understand that a good artist would only remain in the shadows of the better and excellent ones. However, I did not have the heart to try to be brilliant. Instead, I became nothing for I was too weak-willed not only to witness the crack of dawn but also to allow the dream of producing masterpieces that can touch the souls of many to fall with the sunset that I so much admire. With this, the paintbrush I valued was locked in a box in my memory. Even so, I wish I was proud enough to keep the paintbrush that once became a part of me.
    When I glanced outside through the glass door, a curve line with a touch of regret drew on my face. The sky was cleared, the clouds had gone away and the stars twinkled brightly. The old church bell nearby had already started inviting people to attend the mass at seven in the evening – it was the first out of three sets of calls. Before I went out, I took a last glimpse at what used to be my passion. The two choices I had back then were still in my thoughts, but I chose the path of a loser who looked at the dark side of the coin. Even so, I wish I was not like most losers who drowned themselves in depression after losing something very precious.

    Somehow my wish was granted because when I left the world of arts, another world opened for me – the world of music. It was then that I discovered that I had an ear for music too. With the help of the eager persuasion of my classmate, I enrolled in music classes and chose the piano as my field of specialization. The magic feeling when my fingers touched the piano keys to produce a soothing tone, was still embedded in my mind. To a peaceful place, I drifted as I continued to play the delightful melody from the music sheet within my heart. The notes then became apparent. Time flowed endlessly. Then, when the last note was played, a light feeling overcame my yearning soul. Yet, I was a fool to let go of this great chance. It was due to the different class activities and schoolwork that took up most of my time that I did not even find the opportunity to play a single note. Achieving not only good but excellent grades was my focus back then. Eventually, dust covered the piano keys and the music sheet was locked in a box in my memory. Once again, I left another valuable world. Even so, I wish I was wise enough to hold onto the music sheet that once became my refuge.

    When the old church bell finally gave the last call, I was still a block away from home. Yet it seemed too far away. I looked to the right and saw cars passing by swiftly. I looked to the left and saw a cake shop which was fit for the situation. I really needed an energy booster and a slice of cake would do. After I chose a cake, I sat on the table nearest to the door so that I could easily go out. Maybe I loved the open door so much that I often left precious things behind no matter how much fate directed me back to the doors left open for me to fall back on. The enchanted feeling brought about by the paintbrush I so much treasured and the warm feeling of the music sheet I used to love were the things I long to get back if only I would acknowledge all the reasons to do so. I wish I was courageous enough to free the paintbrush and the music sheet that I kept locked in a box.

    The slice of chocolate cake set on a peach plate finally came. I slowly ate it with the hope that it would somehow relieve me and mysteriously, it did. Just as only crumbs remained on the peach plate, the same goes of the box that locked the memory of the world of music and arts. I left the place with the consciousness that the paintbrush and the music sheet were locked in a box no more so that I was to see the sun rise within me just as it comes out from the seas. This time, I wish I was ready to allow my eyes to behold the sunrise just as I was to allow myself to go back to the worlds I once abandoned.