Happy birthday, honey….

I said the words to you, then I kissed your chubby cheek, and I hugged you close and tenderly.

Should have been. That’s how it should have been. At least, that’s how I’ve imagined should have been. But look at what I did then. I said this in front of your gravestone. No birthday cake with candle you’d blow with your tiny mouth. Or the warmth of family sitting together. No laugh, spoil pout, funny look, fussy lips and your cheerful face.

Only red soil heap, piled with a stone, written on with your name, your birthday and your pass away date, which even still in the same year. Pain covered my time and space. Tears, sadness, heartache, sorrow….

I spread out the last grab of flowers I brought. I rubbed your epitaph once again, and I sent you a warm loving kiss.

***

You have become my life since the first second I saw you. More than the time I realized your existence inside me. Yes, finding that you are a part of me that I finally could touch and hold. Seeing you so frail, I had to take care of you, protect you. You have became my everything.

Miracle by miracle you brought to my eyes has filled my life and my heart. Endear me, eager to always give you the best, to sacrifice. To give you anything you wish, nothing no for you.

I could still hear you laughing. Your innocent eyes that wouldn’t let me let you hurt. Your humbly mumbling, but I could understand what you desired.

I could still remember every single movement you made, from the simple one, to your first ever step. How you slowly rose up. Then you looked at me who was few steps away. You looked at me like trying to say,’ Mommy, I’m coming to you. Reach for me, don’t let me fall…’ So I reached to you and you move slightly. One step, one more step... faster…. Faster… until you hit me. I hugged you as a congratulations for you effort, and you looked at me with shiny eyes, ‘I did it… I did it…’

I never thought it was the beginning of your end. As you walked more steady and stable, you desire became stronger. You wanted to stop crawling. And you wanted to explore more, to satisfy you curiosity of everything you see, and everything you wanted to see.

***

I stared at you photo again, with the wild flower crown I made for you. The flowers we picked from the garden behind our house. You stood still and let me put it on. Your puffy tiny nose, tell me that you are the most beautiful girl in the world.

‘beauty, na…’

‘Yes, my dear. Na beautiful…’

You, are the most beautiful princess in the world. You are the world to me. Your pass away have grabbed my world, that have became alive with your presence, it grabbed even my whole life before it….

I looked away to the street, through the opened front door. I regret, though I know it is no use, the day I let it open and left you play here alone in this room, while I was preparing water to bathe you. I could still clearly hear the wheels squeaking, and a neighbor screaming.

Frantically I ran out the house and screamed, seeing your little body laid right before that white sedan’s nose, splashed some red on it. My sight suddenly darkened…

I hold your picture tighter close to my chest and feel the pain again. Losing you, my little angel. Everybody told me not to blame myself, but how can I tell myself the same?. Today you should have been one year old. I never wanted to make a big party, with balloons filling the room, or guests bringing presents. I only wanted to be with you, and your dad, thank God for all blesses He gave us, and wish for more to fall over…

I tried to face the reality. But I still can not stop these tears from overflowing each time I remember you, and I remember you in every single beat of my heart….

Happy birthday, Na….

****************

for this week's sundayscribblings prompt: regrets

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live amazes me every time...

for this week's sundayscribblings prompt, for richer or poorer

Part one

Live amazes me

Like this time. I sat before this amazing bike. It is pink and white with a bell on its right handle. And a basket in front of it, with a picture of a girl wearing pink dress and holding a basketful of wild flowers.

I turned the pedal forward, the back wheel was turning, hypnotizing.

This bike was a present for being upgraded. Not for me, but for Enny.

***

Enny was my neighbor. She was such a lucky girl. Her parents were rich, and she was the only kid. They lived in the big house in front of ours.

I mean, our house was big. But it was still unfinished. The wall was naked, the windows didn’t have glasses, but covered by multiplex. The floor wasn’t concrete or ceramics or wood. It was soil. My dad was still trying to collect more money to finish our house.

Enny’s house was a castle to me. It has two pillars at the front. The windows were wide and all had glass blocked. That’s how our windows would be like, my father said. The curtains were double. First layer was white transparent, the outer layer was glittery and smooth. The floor was shiny and cold. That’s where I and Enny played every time after school.

Enny was a very kind friend. She shared everything she had with me. Her dolls, her cooking toys, her magazines.

She lent me a harmonica. She couldn’t play it but she had the manual book and let me read it. We would be happy if I found a notation of a song and play it. Our favorit song was a Japanese, Kokoronotomo. We didn’t know the words, at all. It just sound good and soft.

In the living room, she had a grand piano. It was kinda weird to me, since nobody in that big house could play it. I wanted to try but wasn’t allowed.

“My Dad said you can play anything I have, but that one”, Enny said.

“It’s. okay, En. It must be so expensive. I’m afraid I would break it, my father wouldn’t be able to pay the reparation bill”

I felt lucky enough to have some of her used dresses. They all were still beautiful, even better than my new ones, dresses that my mother bought in a traditional market.

***

Enny sat across the pink bike and let me admire it.

“Can I borrow it, please?”, I asked, hopefully.

“Sure. But I will try first, you can try after me”, oh wasn’t she an angel?

“Yes. I won’t go far. I will only ride until that cross and turn back. Then we could ride together around the village, what do you think? I will use my own bike”

She nodded.

My bike was just as big as hers. But it was a used one, when my father brought it to me as a new bike. He bought it from a friend. My bike was red, but it’s been faded and turned into brown in some parts. My Father bought a bell and put it on. But it doesn’t have a basket like Enny’s. And the chain cover was gone. But it’s ok, my chain loosen a lot. A case would be an inconvenient to me when I had to fix it up.

Live Amazes me every time.

Enny got this bike for her upgraded from 3^rd to 4^th. I’ve been the 1^st rank since my first report to the last during my three years in elementary school, but my father never gave me any present as an award.

I knew exactly how our condition was. And I would never protest. My father was just a labor while Enny’s father was a governor’s officer. But I was just an eight year old girl, with a jealousy that some times came out, if only Enny wasn’t that kind to me.

*********************************

Part two.

Live amazes me.

Like this time.

A sunny Sunday morning. As my habit I had made, I visit my father at least once a month. I and Dad were sitting in front of our house. The house was now perfect, at least at father's measurement. The walls were covered. The windows had glasses, and the floor was covered with ceramic tile

Enny came out of her house. She smiled at me and said. “Morning, Nil. When did you come?”

I walked closer to the fence so I didn’t have to yell answering her.

“Last night. Where are you going?”

“See my shop”

“Oh, the cafe. How is it going?”

“What café? It’s just a coffee shop. Almost zero visitor. I guess I’ll have to close it in a mean time. But as long as it is open, I have to run it, right?”

I nodded and waved my hand as she went away with her motor bike

I looked at the house and try to remember when was the last time I explored farther than guest room. It is still big. The curtains have been changed. But I really had no idea what was more inside.

Since I was in high school, I had less time interacting with Enny. I was too busy. Busy studying. My father promised me, I could go to college but only if I got scholarship. Of course, my father wouldn’t have money to pay my study in university without it. And busy working as a part timer, because I needed more money to buy books and all my needs.

My father has retired four years ago. I have finished studying and so has my little sister. I’ve got married and work at a lawyer firm with my husband. And I have two wonderful children.

Enny has finished colleging too. But still hasn’t got a job. She hasn’t got married, more over having children. And she still lives with her father who has retired two years before my father. She opened a café, I can barely remember when. But she said it didn’t give enough benefits. She kept running it just to give her something to do. She just said that she might have to close it.

“I often feel sad about that friend of yours”, Dad said, I get sat back beside him.

“Why?”

“Can’t you see?”

“I might see it, but in other way”

“How do you see it?”

I raised my shoulders.

“I can not explain it exactly. It’s just… ugh… how live has turned upside down. I used to feel jealous to Enny when I was kid”

“Do you think Enny’s the one who is feeling jealous to you now??”

“I’m not saying that. But, seeing how she is now… “ I shook my head again, ” I’d rather be who I was and who I am now. I was poor then, but I can have all I need now. More than I’ve ever hoped for, more than my child hood dream”

“What was your child hood dream?”

“My kids to have a better live than I had”

“Has it been?”

“It has been, a lot”

Live amazes me. Like now. My younger kid run while laughing, and ploughed into my lap.

“Diane Mom… Diane...”

Behind her, Diane, my eldest, run over and hugged her from back.

“Hey… hey… what is this...?”, I asked.

“Diane wanted to kiss me with her nose..”

“What is wrong with that?”

“She put dried snot on it....”

I held Diane’s chin and raised her face up. Oh, I could see a big one. How gross. I flicked it away and she spontaneously looked for it.

We all haw-hawed.

I pierced to the house across the street. The house, that I didn’t know why, has lost its grace beyond my eyes. All my child hood memories of its luxury have faded away with time.

My live now is far below the glory that once overshadowed that house. But really, happiness, in the end, wasn’t all about it, at all.

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Sabtu sore yang mendung....

Di tengah lapangan SD di pingggir desa, sekumpulan anak sedang bermain kasti. Matahari sudah hampir jatuh di garis cakrawala, tapi permainan sedang seru-serunya. Kelompok pemukul bola hampir meloloskan semua pelarinya. Pitik si pemukul terakhir memukul keras, tepat mengarah ke tangkapan Bayu.Bayu memegang bolanya, tapi tiba-tiba terpaku. Penonton berteriak-teriak untuk dia melakukan sesuatu.

“Yu! Lempar ke sini cepat!!”, teriak Wawan yang menghadang di dekat penclokan terakhir.
Tapi Bayu masih membeku.
Teman sekelompoknya ribut berseru. Pemain lawan sudah berlari dan menyentuh empat tongkat yang ditancapkan di sudut-sudut lapangan.
Satu…
Dua…
Tiga…

Empat pelari sudah masuk ke garis rumah. Tinggal Pitik yang masih kurang satu penclokan lagi.
“Bayu! Jangan ngalamun! Bolanya-bolanya-bolanya…!!!” teman-temannya mulai marah.
Bayu tergagap. Dilemparnya bola ke arah Wawan yang menangkap dengan sigap dan siap menghadang Pitik.

Bayu tidak menghiraukan lagi bolanya, tidak peduli teman-temannya, tidak menggubris permainannya. Sekuat tenaga dia berlari meninggalkan lapangan menuju rumahnya. Meninggalkan Wawan yang terbengong-bengong. Meninggalkan Pitik yang berlari terus melewati garis.

Semua pemain kelompok Pitik sudah masuk garis, bersorak berjingkrak memenangkan satu putaran. Bola masih di tangan Wawan, yang terdiam bersama kelompoknya yang sedang berjaga. Dibantingnya bola ke tanah, tanpa ampun. “Sialan Bayu!. Cah edan! Kenapa sih anak itu?”

***

Bayu terus berlari seperti kesetanan. Membelok di dua tikungan, melewati jembatan, membuyarkan sekumpulan ayam yang sedang mencari makan. Membiarkan Mbah Tumi berteriak, “Le… Yu! Ada apa kamu kok lari kaya gitu…?”

Bapak datang, aku harus pulang. Bapak datang, aku harus pulang. Bapak datang, aku Harus pulang.

Hanya itu yang terus diucapkannya dalam hati dan kepalanya. Langkahnya melambat ketika memasuki gang depan rumahnya, semakin lambat di depan pintu masuk pekarangannya, dan berhenti dua meter di depan pintu rumahnya.

Sesaat dia terdiam, memandang ke dalam. Sepi.

Perlahan langkahnya memasuki bagian depan rumah yang luas dan lengang. Kakinya terus mengayun pelan menuju ruang makan yang tak beda senyapnya. Penuh ragu dibukanya pintu kamar barat yang nyaris tak pernah dibuka.

Gelap. Pengap. Dan tidak ada siapa-siapa. Tidak ada suara, hanya nafasnya sendiri yang sedikit tersengal setelah berlari pulang dari lapangan.

Bayu berbalik dan berjalan menuju dapur. Mbah Putri sedang membetulkan letak kayu dan meniup api di tungku.

“Mbah…”, panggilnya pelan. Tapi tak urung membuat Mbahnya terkejut.“Hey, Le… Mbah ngga denger kamu masuk. Kamu kenapa, kok menggeh-menggeh gitu?”

Bayu mendekat dan jongkok di samping Mbah Putri.

“Bapak mana, Mbah?”

Mbah Putri meletakkan kayu, mengusapkan kedua tangannya ke kainnya yang sudah bertabur abu, lalu membelai rambut cucunya penuh kasih.

“Bapakmu masih di Lombok, Le…”“Tapi tadi aku merasa Bapak datang. Aku merasa Bapak sudah di rumah, dan membawakan aku oleh-oleh banyak…”

Mbah Putri merengkuh Bayu ke dalam peluknya.

“Belum, Le. Bapakmu belum pulang”

Bayu meringkuk. Air matanya mulai mengalir di kedua pipinya.

“Kapan Bapak pulang, Mbah?”
“Tiga bulan lagi, tiga bulan lagi. Sabar ya Le, cah bagus..”
“Aku kangen Bapak Mbah..”
“Aku tahu Le. Tapi Bapakmu harus cari uang di sana. Sabarlah, tiga bulan lagi dia akan datang, membawakanmu oleh-oleh, banyak…”

Bayu terisak. Bahunya berguncang.

“Kamu mau baca lagi surat Bapakmu?”

Bayu menggeleng, lalu bangun dan berjalan menuju kamarnya.
Dipandanginya potret yang selalu berdiri di meja belajarnya. Bapak, Ibu, dia. Setelah menikah, kedua orang tuanya merantau ke Lombok. Dia masih sempat tinggal bersama mereka di sana beberapa masa. Tapi sejak TK, dia ditinggal di desa, menemani Mbah Putri yang sendiri. Bapak dan Ibu hanya pulang dua kali setahun.

Dua tahun terakhir, hanya Bapak yang pulang setiap enam bulan, Ibu sudah meninggal karena kanker payudara. Dua tahun terakhir, hanya Bapaknya yang dinanti-nantikannya.
Diingatnya lagi, memang baru tiga bulan yang lalu Bapak pulang. Jadi Mbah Putri benar, dia harus menunggu tiga bulan lagi.

Ayat-ayat suci Al-Qur’an terdengar dilantunkan dari masjid di belakang rumah. Sebentar lagi maghrib. Bayu meletakkan foto itu, dan beranjak untuk mandi lalu pergi ke masjid. Dia akan memohon kepada Allah untuk kesehatan Bapak, agar dia bisa bertemu dengannya, tiga bulan lagi…
Berbagi Read more!

Aku menggali keyakinanku (2)

Bisa kurasa nafasku tak lagi memburu. Dan jantungku tak lagi berpacu. Hanya peluhku masih mengalir, membasahi rambutku. Mengalir lewat di sela kedua mata, di tepi bibir, ke dagu. Bertemu dengan yang mengalir menyusur telinga. Menyatu dengan semua yang keluar dari seluruh pori-pori. Bercampur darah di kedua kaki. Perih.

Angin lembut meniup. Membawa pergi molekul demi molekul peluh dan air mata, mengeringkan darahku. Menyejukkan hati dan jiwa. Mengalunkan senandung kerinduan dan cinta. Membuai sukma yang penat berat.

Kupejam mata dan serasa tubuhku mengambang terayun perlahan. Kuhirup aroma bunga di udara. Tak lagi kurasa gelap pekat kabut dan dingin yang menusuk semula, tergantikan terang dan hawa hangat. Bagai bayi diemban bunda, bagi diri dibuai kekasih, aku terlena.

Inikah ia… kebahagiaan itu?

Braak!!! Aku jatuh terhempas di atas batu yang menjulang dari dasar jurang. Semua yang baru saja kurasa tiba-tiba hilang. Angin kembali menjadi dingin. Awan berkumpul menebal, hitam menghadang setiap cahaya yang coba menyentuhku. Setitik air jatuh di ujung hidungku. Lantas di dahiku. Pipi. Tangan. Rambut. Dan makin banyak lagi di sekujur tubuhku, hingga kusadar ini hujan.

Petir menggelegar dan air seperti ditumpahkan dari bejana maha besar. Badai kurasa. Karena angin menderu keras menerpaku yang tersungkur di atas batu. Menelungkup berpegang pada lekuk dan tonjolan kasarnya. Aku takut jika aku berdiri, angin akan menghempasku, atau petir menyambarku. Dingin air hujan seperti ribuan jarum menusuk tubuhku. Aku ingin berpeluk lututku sendiri mencari kehangatan. Tapi kedua tanganku harus berpegang atau aku akan terlempar masuk jurang.

Entah berapa lama aku bertahan. Tapi kemudian mendung menepi seiring hujan berhenti dan angin pergi. Kabut juga lari. Lalu muncul matahari yang seperti wajah smiley melemparkan senyum kepadaku. Menghangatkan lagi tubuh beku. Perasaan nyaman luar biasa setelah apa yang baru saja mendera.

Inikah ia… kebahagiaan itu?

Aku berdiri mendongak merentangkan kedua tanganku. Memejam mata menghayati setiap kehangatan yang merasuki pori-pori. Mengeringkan lagi badanku yang basah kuyup. Dan angin semilir sekali lagi menghembusku.

Kudengar lagi lagu cinta itu. Lembut, merayu. Menyunggingkan senyum di bibir yang lama terkatup butut. Membungakan lagi hati yang lama kering sepi. Menghidupkan lagi jiwa yang lama gersang mati.

Lalu kurasa hangat meningkat. Menjadi panas yang lambat laun semakin menyengat. Aku mulai berkeringat. Kukipas tangan mencoba menyejukkan, tapi aku tahu itu sia-sia. Karena panas tak berhenti merambat. Dan peluhku semakin deras membasahi lagi baju dan tubuhku.

Semakin lama panas bukan lagi hawa. Dia membakar. Laksana api yang melilit aku. Kurasa akan hangus tubuhku ini dalam beberapa waktu. Menggigit bibir sama sekali tidak membantu. Panasnya menyiksa, dan aku meronta, tapi tak berguna. Aku menjerit, berteriak, mengumpat, menyumpah. Tapi tetap tak membawa apa-apa.

Panas tak berhenti membakar. Aku pasrah. Ayo, hanguskan, musnahkan aku! Biar aku akan tahu inilah yang kudapat dari perjalananku melintasi jembatan sebatang meraih batu yang menjulang dari dasar jurang.

Aku sudah bersiap mati. Tapi matahari menjadi ramah lagi. Dan angin meniupkan kesejukan pagi. Membuatku mengira aku telah terbang ke atas awan, bersayap dan berlingkar emas di atas kepala. Maka kubuka mata dan aku masih saja, berdiri di ujung batu yang menjulang dari dasar jurang. Melihat terang namun teduh. Perasaan nyaman luar biasa setelah panas yang tak terkira mencabik tubuhku.

Inikah ia… kebahagiaan itu?

Udara berhenti di kecepatan nol. Temperatur berhenti di dua lima derajat celcius. Intensitas cahaya berhenti di100 candela.

Aku menunggu apa lagi yang akan terjadi. Siksa yang akan berakhir bahagia, untuk bersiklus lagi menjadi siksa dan bahagia dan siksa dan bahagia dan siksa dan bahagia…

Aku mengumpat pada hati dan keyakinanku. “Keparat, kau beri aku bahagia yang bersela derita… Atau derita bersela bahagia?” Read more!

Aku menggali keyakinanku....

Masih dari tempatku berdiri, di tepi jurang kehancuran, gelap berkabut pekat. Dingin menggigit tulang. Sunyi sepi mencekam. Aku bisa saja memutar badan lalu kembali pulang. Tapi hatiku berkata jangan. Dia ingin aku melangkah meniti jembatan sebatang, menuju sebuah batu yang menjulang dari dasar jurang. Katanya di sana ada bahagia.

Aku masih ragu. Karena aku tidak tahu dari apa jembatan itu. Tidak tampak seberti batu, atau kayu. Kayu baru atau rapuh. Tidak seperti beton atau besi. Besi baru atau berkarat. Aku bahkan tidak tahu dia berselimut tanah atau debu, yang jelas itu membuatku tak bisa menduga.

Aku masih ragu. Benarkah ada kebahagiaan itu? Karena di sana tak kulihat apapun selain batu itu, tempat aku nanti akan berdiri di atasnya. Berselimut kabut, berlingkup dingin, berpeluk sepi. Apa? Siapa yang akan membawa kebahagiaan padaku? Aku takut hatiku menipu.

Lalu mulai kulangkahkan kakiku, perlahan. Setapak, dan aku maju. Dua tapak, dan aku mampu. Berkali aku berdesir, singunen setiap kali melirik ke bawah, dasarnya tidak nampak. Aku memilih mendongak, karena dengan begitu aku tak akan menyadari, ada jurang di kanan kiriku.

Ugh!! Apa ini yang menghantam dari kananku? Angin yang begitu kuat membantingku, aku terpelanting. Hatiku habis, jantungku berhenti berdetak. Tapi sesaat kemudian kusadari sebelah tanganku masih berpegang di jembatan sebatang, dan sisa tubuhku terayun menggelantung.
Kupejamkan mata rapat. Menggapaikan sebelah tanganku yang lain. Walau sudah kedua tanganku meraba, aku masih belum bisa mengatakan jembatan itu terbuat dari apa. Kasar, keras, dan menyengat tanganku, dengan suhu yang tak bisa kujelaskan – panas yang amat, atau dingin sangat. Beberapa saat aku terombang-ambing.

Sekuat tenaga kuangkat tubuhku. Kuayunkan kaki hingga bisa mengait jembatan sebatang. Susah payah, tapi akhirnya aku berhasil kembali berada di atas jembatan, menelungkup, mengatur nafas dan hatiku. Aku tidak mau berdiri lagi. Aku masih merasakan hembusan angin itu. Aku tidak mau jatuh lagi.

Aku kembali diliput ragu. Harus kembali atau maju. Karena kini aku berada di tengah perjalananku. Aku kembali dan perjuanganku sia-sia, atau terus dan entah akan mendapatkan apa.

Perlahan aku merangkak maju. Telapak tanganku mulai melepuh, dengkulku tersayat. Aku berpeluh, berdarah. Angin itu masih menghembusku. Terkadang lembut dan hangat menyeka letihku, membuatku melupakan semua kesakitanku. Terkadang keras menerpa, memaksaku berhenti dan erat berpegang.

….

Tangan kananku meraih. Tangan kiriku menggapai. Kaki kananku menapak. Kaki kiriku menjejak.
Aku berdiri di atas batu yang menjulang dari dasar jurang, mencari kebahagiaan yang dijanjikan hatiku. Read more!

Anak kecil itu...

Aku baru pulang kerja dan ada latihan jam lima. Sore ini aku sedang tidak ingin naik bis Damri yang biasa lewat di depan kantorku. Aku memilih naik angkot, sedikit berjalan kaki, berbecek-becek melewati segerombolan pekerja proyek pembangunan sebuah gedung raksasa. Katanya mal. Oh please, dulu jalan tempat kantorku berada ditetapkan sebagai kawasan perkantoran dan sekolahan. Sekarang mal bermunculan…

Angkot yang kutumpangi kosong, hanya ada aku yang baru saja naik dan meletakkan ransel di sebelahku. Aku sudah bersiap-siap untuk bersabar menunggu angkot itu mendapat satu dua penumpang lagi, tapi ternyata supirnya langsung menyalakan mesin dan menjalankan mobilnya.

Tadinya aku tidak terlalu memperhatikan angkot ini ataupun supirnya. Memang tidak ada yang istimewa yang bisa membuat aku mengingatnya. Misalnya ada stiker dengan kata-kata lucu atau saru. Atau mungkin jok yang warnanya ngejreng. Atau supir yang ganteng… ahem!

Tapi ketika melihat anak kecil itu, bocah umur antara dua-tiga tahun, yang duduk di bangku depan… Dia bertelekan tangan di jendela, memandang lepas ke jalanan sambil sesekali menguap. Aku duduk di bangku sisi kanan tepat di belakang supir, dan aku bisa melihat wajah polosnya dari kaca spion kiri.

Aku jadi ingat aku pernah menumpang angkot ini. Waktu itu, ada anak kecil ingusan ini, bersama ibunya. Perempuan itu masih cukup muda, kutebak usianya belum lebih dari 25. kulitnya gelap tapi bersih, badannya langsing cenderung kurus, rambutnya hitam lurus panjang melampaui bahunya. Hidungnya mancung sedikit naik, sempurna. Mulanya kukira dia penumpang biasa seperti aku, tapi setelah beberapa menit aku tahu bahwa mereka adalah anak dan istri si supir. Bocah itu, waktu itu, rewel bukan main. Merengek minta ini itu.

Aku dibuat terpana dengan kata-kata yang keluar dari mulut ibunya, “Diam, atau aku hajar kamu!”.

Anak itu menangis makin keras. Sang ibu lantas menjewer, mencubit, membekap mulutnya dengan gemas. Tidak berhasil. Anak itu tidak mau diam. Dia lantas menggelayut di leher supir yang ternyata adalah ayahnya. Sang ayah pun tidak mengacuhkannya, sibuk melambai-lambai ke luar, memanggil calon penumpang.

Sampai saat aku turun, anak itu masih menangis. Kuserahkan tiga ribu rupiah kepada ayahnya, dan kugenggamkan lima ribu rupiah ke tangan si bocah, “Ssst… diamlah. Nanti ajak ibu beli es krim ya…”

Dia diam waktu aku turun. Entah jadi beli es krim atau tidak.
Dan sore ini, dia sendiri. Sepertinya bosan melihat jalanan. Lalu dia merosot di tempat duduknya, dan mulai merengek. Seperti sebelumnya, ayahnya lebih konsentrasi ke jalanan mencari penumpang. Setelah beberapa saat dicueki, dia diam sendiri. Lalu berdiri bersandar sambil melihat lurus ke depan.

Kucolek pundaknya.

“Hai… kamu ganteng kalo ngga nangis”

Dia menoleh padaku dan tersenyum.

“Siapa namamu?”
“Ian”
“Mana Ibu?”
“Kerja”

Aku keluarkan susu kotak dari tasku, yang sebenarnya kusiapkan untuk kuminum nanti selesai aku latihan.

“Ian mau ini?”
Dia menyambutnya.
“Terima kasih. Tolong bukain sedotannya”, pintanya.

Dan kubantu.Tidak sampai lima menit dia menghabiskannya.

“Pak, habis”, dia lapor ke ayahnya.

“Ya, pinter. Buang”

Dan dilemparkannya ke jalan kotak susu yang sudah kosong itu. Aku hampir berteriak karena dia membuang sampah sembarangan. Tapi untung bisa kutahan. Ian bukan Ibit atau Ar Ir yang selalu ribut mencari tempat sampah kalau mau membuang sesuatu. Mungkin orang tuanya belum mengajarkan itu. Dan aku tidak berhak memprotesnya.

Aku sudah sampai ke tujuanku, hanya ada satu penumpang lain yang naik sesaat sebelum aku turun. Kuberikan tiga ribu kepada pak supir. Dan kulihat Ian yang ternyata tertidur di bangku depan…

“Da Ian…”, bisikku.
Aku tidak tahu kapan ketemu Ian lagi. Bocah kecil yang terpaksa ikut menyusuri jalanan bersama ayahnya. Atau harus bertahan dengan ibunya yang cantik tapi keras sekali masa. Tapi mulai sekarang, aku menyimpan sebuah mainan mobil-mobilan di ranselku, untuk Ian, kalau nanti kami ketemu…

*sebenarnya ada foto close up si ganteng ian, tapi tidak berani pasang, belum minta ijin ke ybs atau ortunya...* Read more!

a cloudy saturday afternoon

for this weeks sundayscribbling's prompt, late

In the middle of a schoolyard, in the edge of the village, a group of boys were playing baseball. The sun was about to fall to the horizon line, but the game was in the climax. The hitter group almost had their players run home. Pitik the last hitter, hit the ball so strong, straight to Bayu's hand. Bayu held the ball, but he suddenly frozen. The supporter out of the area screamed and shouted, told him to do something with the ball.

“Yu! Over here! Throw the ball to me!!”, shouted Wawan who was standing next to the last base.

But Bayu just stood there still.

His friends screamed at him again. The other group players have one by one touched all the bases.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four runners run across the home line. Only Pitik left to touch the last base.

“Bayu! Stop daydreaming! The ball the ball the ball…!!!” his friends started to get mad.

Bayu haw. He threw the ball to Wawan who caught it right and ready to stop Pitik.

Bayu didn't care about the ball anymore, he didn't care about his friends, he didn't care about the game. He run like a thunder, left the field straight to his house. Left Wawan completely dazed. Left Pitik who was still running to the last base and did a home run.

Pitik and his group cheered and jumped for their winning in the last inning. The ball was still in Wawan's hand, fixed in enchantment of their defeat He slammed the ball to the ground, no mercy. “Stupid Bayu!. Crazy boy! What is wrong with him?”

***

Bayu kept running like a ghost was chasing behind him. He turned twice, run over a bridge, scattered a bunch of chicken, let Mbah Tumi shouted, “Yu! why are you running like that…?”

Dad's come, I can't be late. Dad's come, I can't be late. Dad's come, I can't be late.

Those words echoed in his head. His step got slower as he got into the street in front of his house, slower as he entered his house gate, and stopped few feet before the door.

He stood still, stared in. It was so quite.

Slowly he stepped into the wide quite living room. He continued walking entered the living room with the same situation he caught. Doubtfully he opened the west room, it hasn't been open for a long time.

Dark. Musty. And there was nobody. No sound, only his ruffle breath after running along the way home.

Bayu turned around and walked to the kitchen. Grandma was fixing the wood and blowing the fire in the stove.

“Mbah…”, he called his granny gently. Still she was a little bit shocked.
“Hey, Yu… I didn't hear you coming. What is wrong with you?"

Bayu walked approaching Grandma in sat next to her.

“Where's Dad?”

Grandma put the wood down, wiped his hands on her ashy skirt, and stroke her beloved grandson's head tenderly.

“Your Dad is still in Lombok, Yu…”
“But I felt he was coming. I felt he was at home, and brought me lot of presents…”

Grandma grabbed Bayu into her arms.

“No, Yu. He's not coming yet”

Bayu cuddled up. Tears started to fall over his face.

“When will he be home, Mbah?”
“In three months, dear. Be patient okay..”
“I miss Dad, Mbah..”
“I know, darling. But your Dad has to work and gain money there. Be patient, in three months he will come and bring you a lot of presents…”

Bayu cried. His shoulders shook.

“Do you want to read your dad's letters again?”

Bayu shook his head, then got up and waked to his room.

He stared at a picture that's always been there on his desk. Dad, Mom, him.

Right after his parents got married, they went to find a job in Lombok. Bayu was born there and stayed with them for couple of years. But since he was five, his Dad sent him here to this village to accompany his lonely Grandma. Dad and Mom visited him twice a year.

These past two years, only Dad comes visit him every six months, Mother has died caused by breast cancer. These past two years, his Dad is the only one he waits for.

Bayu tried to remember again, and yes Dad has come three months ago. So Grandma was right, he has to wait for another three months.

He heard the sound of holy Al-Qur’an from the mosque behind the house as the dawn was falling. Maghrib is coming. Bayu put the picture back to the table, and went out to take a bath. He would go to the mosque to do sholat maghrib. After that he would pray to Allah, for Dad's health, so he could come and see him in three months...

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