Way back in 1992…
I don’t remember if I was scared, or if I even understood what was really happening. But in 1992, just before Three Kings Day, my hometown of Cayey, Puerto Rico was hit by deadly flooding. Water and mud were everywhere — that much I remember.
I don’t remember if I was scared, or if I even understood what was really happening. But in 1992, just before Three Kings Day, my hometown of Cayey, Puerto Rico was hit by deadly flooding. Water and mud were everywhere; that much I remember. I also remember worrying that the Three Kings wouldn’t make it that year.
That night, I went to bed thinking and praying for everyone in town. I’d heard someone had been hurt, and I couldn’t fall asleep — my mind kept playing a movie of how it might have happened. The year before, my aunt on my mom’s side told me that the Kings never made it to her house or to my grandparents’ with presents for me or my brothers because the twists and turns of the mountain roads made them motion sick. So I knew — this year, after the flood, there probably wouldn’t be any gifts for me or for my friends.
But when I woke up the next morning, there it was: a giant box of art supplies.
Drawing pads, construction paper, pencils, crayons, and every other crafting treasure my little messy artist heart could want. I jumped right in, sorting everything into piles, planning what I would make. I tore open the box of pencils first and started to doodle — instinctively sketching everything that had happened. It was like putting it on paper made it make more sense.
Looking back, I think that was the moment I realized art helped me understand the world.
In the days that followed, while people cleared roads and cleaned out homes, I kept drawing. With school canceled, I wrote stories and made pictures — anything to bring a little joy to my family and friends.
Year after year, the Three Kings kept coming. And every time, they brought art supplies. As I grew older, their boxes evolved into a typewriter, then a word processor, and eventually, a computer. Each gift gave me a way to create, to process, to dream. Each one helped me make sense of a world that often didn’t.
It took a few more years to realize how my creativity could also help me stand up for what I believe in.
But that’s a story for another day.