buffet for two

courtesy of www.innatfalsecreek.com

It was a fine morning. The sun was shining brightly but the rain season was about to come, I could smell its fragrance before it’s coming. It was your special day. What a perfect morning to spend together with you!

I could see it on your face, you felt anxiously happy to come along with me, knowing that we’re going to have breakfast together somewhere you’d never been to. Somewhere I’d ever been to. Somewhere we both wanted to be.

Alone. Unrecognized. Carefree.

The lavish buffet for two was my big surprise for you. Now your eyes sparkled with wonder and my heart leaped with joy. Happy birthday!

 

craving

I keep asking myself quietly why I’m always craving for you every now and then, despite your flavor.

I taste you in my tongue.

I smell you in the air.

I feel you in my vain.

You flow with my blood stream and every time you reaches my brain, you hit my memory, creating an unbearable echoes like that of a gong.

Only this time, it made a louder sound that it stayed in the thick air of hatred and longing, forcing me to be alerted of the returning of your ghostly figure to my senses.

 

almost birthday

My birthday is coming in few days.

I can’t believe that I’ll be 32 this month, although deep inside my spirit is just 27 years old. Or, it feels like it. However, there’s one thing that comes to my realization lately: the more you get older, the least significant your age is. Here I am, almost turning 32 and I don’t find my birthday is special anymore.

courtesy of www.topnews.in

Maybe it’s because that I’m getting older? Does getting older – with the wrinkles and loose cheeks – make me nervous, so that I refuse to realize it? But then, why would I feel nervous about it? Is it because that there’s nothing good about getting older but being feeble and weak?

I don’t know the answer. One thing for sure, though, in my culture getting older means like being rice paddies that are ready to be harvested, they are the source of living for many people. It’s like old wine, comparing to western culture, the older the wine is, the better the taste is. And this is what I’m pursuing all of this time, which I dare to say that I’m not afraid of becoming old.

courtesy of www.ca.askmen.com

I merely find my birthday is not that special anymore, for it’s not about the number of the years I’ve lived or will be living in the future, but it’s about how I live my life now. Looking back to the later perspective, I found my life has been colorfully rich and tasty. I’m turning into ready-harvested rice paddies. A glass of old fine wine for refined companies. It’s more than special. It’s valuable and pivotal as it becomes my milestone of life.

… and I’m looking forward to it!

 

on moving on

Today I was informed that one of our colleague decided to move on. By the end of this year, he will finish his working contract with the institute and start a new challenging job in Berlin.

The news was striking for a such small office like ours.

It happened also today, by chance, that I decided to move on. Pray that it won’t only stay as a decision but proceed into action.

 

two pairs of red leather boots

We bought them together five years ago in this little store at the corner of Strawberry Street on one cloudy afternoon on our birthdays.

And this morning, we’re wearing them again as you and I are celebrating our birthdays by sitting on an old wooden couch in our childhood favorite playground. As I look at them I realized how they shaped differently, the color faded away in different manner too. Mine look messy and worn-out, while yours are still as neat as new with little cracks on their surface here and there. But do you remember when we often did this silly thing: I wore yours and you wore mine and we didn’t complain but laughed because we thought people didn’t know that we actually exchanged them?

You’re laughing hard, harder than mine for you remember it was your silly idea and I loved it for you’re my best friend, although now your shoes, which have the same size as mine, doesn’t seem to fit with my feet anymore.

 

September 22, 2009

That day had stupefied me, leaving me in deep bewilderment and despair. I received two death news of people I personally knew.

The first person died was my former lecturer. I received the news  from an old colleague of mine at 4 pm. The news was not really surprising but it hit me somehow. I once worked together with him on a linguistic project and I knew him enough personally and professionally to say that he was a man of honor. His work in Indonesian linguistics was tremendously significant, not to mention that he’s also one of the pioneers in this particular subject in Indonesian language. The old man suffered from complicated illness for years. It was a miracle that he could have breathed longer than the doctor expected, but they believed what happened to him was for his own best. My only disappointment was I couldn’t attend his funeral to give him my last salute.

However, the death news of my senior lecturer somewhat gave me goosebumps and made my legs shaky. I think partly because I was expecting to get a news on my uncle. He got a mild heart attack ten days ago but it rendered a serious complication since he’s a diabetic. Certainly, despite of all, we hoped that he would make a progress for he was such strong person to everyone who knew him. A person with a great spirit and energy: he almost never got sick. I think that’s the reason behind our disbelief to see his condition got worsened each and every day. We prayed that he would recover soon.

Apparently, Life decided to leave him.

At 9.13 pm, a friend of mine who’s like a son to my beloved uncle called me, saying that my uncle had already gone and what happened was the best for him for it was hard for him to breathe. To cut the story short, my friend who got the chance to see my uncle on his last time on Earth told me that he endured so much pain to breathe due to the complication. Yes, I believe he was saying the truth. Yes, my brain says death is a not bad idea after all. In some cases, it can be your knight in shining armor and become a fine solution. But there’s something else made me feel like diving into a deep blue hollow of doubled melancholy: I may not be able to attend his funeral on this Sunday.

The lugubrious feeling played the memories I had with my uncle like a movie screen back and forth since last night. For once again, he seemed to be alive in my mind. I could still hear his voice clearly and picture his facial expression when he was sad, angry or making funny faces vividly. I also remembered how he welcomed me with open arms when I was having hard times that I needed to escape from my usual environment, giving me space to rethink about my life without questioning me, and simply trusting me that I would find my own way out. These things make me wish that I could have the chance to say goodbye and thank you for the love and care he’d given me.

Even though a thank you could never be enough.

Still, receiving two news on death of people I personally knew on the same day is somewhat unbearable.

 

Becoming A Mother Turtle

‘Mom, can I have a turtle, please?’

One evening J.K came to me and asked this question. It was certainly a common question that children would ask during their childhood and J.K. was just seven. There’s a close relation on how they relate to their parents and share the affection they get with others. Not to mention that they want to learn to take some responsibility. I’d been waiting for this moment and got excited when he asked that question. I looked at him closely and smiled.

‘Sure, J.K. As long as you would take care of your turtle, feed him well, and find a guardian when you’re not able to take care of him, I wouldn’t mind.’

‘Cool!’

J.K. hopped several times. A big grin engraved on his face.

‘Thanks Mom. I love you.’ J.K. hugged me tightly. His hair smelled lovely, making me reluctant to let him go.

‘So, when do you plan to buy this little Mr. Turtle?’

‘Can we do it tomorrow after school, Mom? I don’t think I can wait for another day.’

I laughed.

‘Why is that?’

‘After reading this story how the turtles are going to vanish from our world, I suddenly think we must do something. Imagine Mom, if I keep one turtle, and my friends have one too each, there will be tens of them! If we can make others have one turtle in their homes, there will be plenty of them. And that means we save all turtles’ life!’

J.K.’s eyes were twinkling.

‘I didn’t know that you’re that mature, J.K.!’ I said proudly.

‘So much you don’t know about me yet, Mom!’ J.K. laughed hard.

‘Yeah, I thought so too.’ I laughed harder.

*

That night I was thinking about J.K.’s words. It wasn’t the turtle I was musing about, but the fact that I started to lose grip on him as he grew older bothered me. I’m just a housewife, so I’d spent most of my times with my son. But what he said was hitting home. He’s growing and I couldn’t always be there to watch the process. Soon, he’d become someone that I barely knew – someone who had his own strong will, plans and life. There’s nothing more painful than to see our children leaving us entering their own world. A world that’s not for us, the parents, to share.

We, the parents, are like the mother turtle, keeping the eggs inside of the beach sand so they could grow inside and hatch. However, she has to leave them once she’s instinctively believed that her offspring-going-to-be would be safe in the hand of Mother Nature. Once these little turtles emerge from the sandy earth, they’ll swim into the sea of life, experiencing the new world with its challenge and adventures. The mother turtle won’t be there to share it with them, although they might live inside the same ocean.

I found that it would take all the courage one has to be a good parent. To relinquish our beloved children but feel proud and triumph seeing them ready to face their own world is in fact a heart-breaking milestone. No one said it’s easy, we would feel anxious now and then, but it’s a process all parents must do. Now I knew that I had to get prepared to grow together with him, since his process is intertwined with mine. I would capture every moment we shared with all my might before they slipped through my fingers and the hourglass told me that the time’s up.

Suddenly I missed J.K so much.

I went to his room and opened the door quietly. The room was dark, but the light coming from my back fell upon his innocent face. His breath sounded like a goodnight rhyme to me. I walked closer to his bed and sat by him for awhile, watching him diving into the sea of dreams.

‘I love you Jordan…’ I whispered softly almost like breathing, then blew a soft kiss on his forehead before going back to my room.

 

the key

Go on, turn the key. What you’ve been looking for is right behind the door. This is your once-in-lifetime chance. It won’t come twice.

My head kept saying it over again, but I stood still, my heart hammering. I already put the key in the lock, but trying to get all the courage in the world to turn it. From where I was standing, I heard the sound of the couple groaning from inside. They’re making love. The man inside was my husband, Jonathan, I supposed. And if I was right, I knew that when the door opened, things would change forever. Our marriage could be damaged.

On the other hand, I’d been waiting for this moment for so long. Catching him in the act to prove that I wasn’t hallucinating as what he always claimed me to be was my first aim for all efforts I’d done. Every time I asked him about his schedule, friends, works or anything related to him outside our home, he instantly went mad and ended with a huge fight. And that’s when he’d call me insane, deluded, hallucinating. Now that all evidences are in my hand and he accidentally left his hotel room key with the hotel name on it, what else could hold me from laying all his cards on the table?

I breathed deeply but quietly. The corridor looked so empty and still, as if waiting for something to happen. My heart kept pounding, only that it got harder now that I could hear it with my own ears. I was motionlessly standing in front of the door with my eyes fixed on the key, looking at it for some minutes now without blinking, while inside they were still making loud voices, hard whispers, naughty laughter. Harder now Jonathan! Get me there quick! Faster now! Strange, I thought, I didn’t feel a thing. I didn’t feel jealous or angry. Nor feelings of disgust, envy, sad, perplexity or even sorry. This, in fact, didn’t surprise me. I was simply numb.

Several minutes passed and I still doubted whether I should turn the key, open the door and look whether the man was Jonathan I knew. Suddenly I heard the man cried so loud, ‘Arrrgghh!!’ I was startled. He didn’t sound like my Jonathan, he never shouted when we made love, in which the man inside did. That man just reached his climax. I gulped. His scream sent me back to reality, but I still didn’t know what to react. Should I leave or should I stay? Should I turn the key now, or should I just pull it off and knock the door, trying the polite way to check it out? Goodness, I was completely lost. Before I got the chance to make any decision, suddenly the door was opened. I held my breath.

‘Cory?’ A familiar voice rang in my ears. It’s my Jonathan who was standing behind the door with a towel wrapping his waist. He looked confused and speechless.

I cleared my throat.

‘Yes, Jonathan?’

‘How long have you been standing there?’

‘Who’s that, Honey?’ The lady in the bed shouted. I could see her long legs with rosy-white skin from where I was standing.

‘Errr… someone from the hotel, Sweetpea.’

Ah, ‘Sweetpea’ so he called her. He told me he hates that form of address. He used to say it’s a pussy name.

‘Tell them to go away. We need a privacy!’

My husband ignored her and got back to me.

‘What are you doing here, Cory?’ his whisper sounded croaking.

‘Uhmm.. errr… I… I just wanted to return your key you left behind in our house…’

I was totally disoriented. It felt like a dream but almost real. No, no. Not a dream. A nightmare. Should I wake up now? I lost my senses. I felt my feet weak every time I saw him. That’s probably the reason he married me: I’m such a vulnerable woman that he could lie to whenever he wanted to. But what’s the point of marrying a person like me, if all he needs is just to cheat behind my back?

‘What? What key?’

‘Th-, tha-, that key…’

My left index finger pointed out the key hung on the door. He quickly looked where I pointed, pulled it off and took a briefly close look to it. He breathed heavily. His face was getting red. I could smell his wrath now. It’s hot and stink, like a boiled rotten egg.

‘Honey, what’s taking you so long? I need some rubs here on my neck, please?’

The woman sounded puerile and inviting, but neither of us moved from where we’re standing.

‘Just a sec, Sweetpea! I’ll be right there,’ shouted Jonathan.

‘Ooohhh!’ shouted the woman, upset.

‘I really don’t know what to do with you, Cory! Please go home now,’ he ordered. He always did it. He never felt embarrassed to give me orders even in front of the public, as if I’m his maid.

‘Ca-, can.. Can I have the key back, now that you don-, don-, don’t seem to need it.’

‘Hey, it’s my key, remember?’ Jonathan looked at me with a sharp look.

‘O-, OK.’

I slowly turned my back on him and walked away. But then I changed my mind. I stopped and turned to his room again. It’s too late. The door was already closed. I lingered in the corridor, thinking what to do next. I knew I should have done something, only that my head couldn’t work properly this time. Maybe Jonathan was right, I was crazy. I’d become someone he could talk to anymore now. Not anymore. I sighed.

It was when I started to leave the corridor, I found a gun in my bag. I started thinking hard to recall the moment I put the gun there, but only to find a blank memory. The more I wanted to recall, the more it ran away from me. All the memories came to me in flashes of outdated picture in sepia but were blown away once I tried to grasp them. I suddenly felt tired. Before taking another step, I looked at the gun once again. I pulled the trigger on and off several times. Then I looked back to the hotel room where my husband was and I put the gun back inside of my bag. I decided to go home.

Tomorrow, we shall start a new beginning, I thought.

*

‘Hey, what took you so long?,’ asked Judy. Jonathan put the key on the table near the bed then sat quietly near where Judy’s lying down. He was lost in his own thoughts.

‘Hey, Baby.. Won’t you tell me?’ Judy patted Jonathan’s golden hair softly. He didn’t say a thing but looked down on the floor, remembering Samara’s frightened look. He suddenly hated himself for being so selfish and superior. He now could see how much that woman loved him inside-out and all-in. His mind’s playing scene of moments starting on the first day they met, on the day when he purposed her, their unforgettable honeymoon in Sumatera, Indonesia, and other beautiful experiences they’d shared together.

‘Jonathan?’ Judy sounded uncomfortable facing Jonathan’s silence. ‘Would you tell me what’s going on?,’ she demanded.

‘Nothing.’

‘This you called ‘nothing’?’ She replied in high pitch.

‘I want to go to the bathroom.’

Jonathan went to the bathroom, leaving Judy bewildered on the bed, naked. He locked the door once he got inside. There in front of the mirror, he looked at his own face. It lost its charm now. There were wrinkles here and there. He looked old and tired. In fact, he’s too old for this kind of game. Jonathan was trying to find his towel in the drawer when his eyes stared on a gun lying inside of the drawer. It’s Judy’s. She always carried her gun anywhere she went.

‘To protect myself when you’re not around, Tiger.’ That’s what she used to say whenever he’s concerned about her carrying a gun.

Jonathan looked at it carefully. It’s a Smith & Wesson revolver with a wooden grip. It’s very stylish. It’s very Judy. I’d certainly blown everything up now, I might as well blow my head, he thought. He put the handgun back in the drawer, washed his face, dried it with his towel and went out. In the room, he put his clothes on and clean up his things.

‘Where are you going, Jonathan?’ Judy was alarmed. Something had been going wrong.

‘Home. Something I have to fix.’

‘You what??’

Jonathan didn’t react towards her. Instead, he’s putting his shoes on, grabbed his bag, headed to the door. Then he remembered something. He went back to the table by the bed. He took the key Samara gave him. Judy couldn’t do or say anything for Jonathan who’s standing in front of her now was a Jonathan she barely knew. Anyways, they just started this affair about a month ago which meant she knew him just little. Judy could see that Jonathan was determined and she knew she had to say something before he left.

‘Will I see you tomorrow?,’ asked her in a doubtful tone.

‘No.’ Jonathan opened the door without saying goodbye or even looking at her.

‘Oh Judy, don’t call me again.’

Slam!

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Thursday, September 03, 2009

#179 – Key

 

the bond

Jakarta was hit by an earthquake on 2nd September afternoon at 2.55 pm. The epicenter was 143 km southwest of Tasikmalaya, West Java with preliminary magnitude of 7.3.

I was in the class teaching Bahasa with one student on the third floor when the tremor started to shake us mildly. This building where I teach has a unique structure: its third floor is as high as the fifth floor of other buildings surround it because it has a high ceiling for its hall on the ground level, which made the tremor felt more powerful compared to other real third floors.  At first, I thought there’s something out there gave the building a jiggle a little while. My student and I held ourselves from giving immediate reactions towards the shake, however it trembled longer than we thought. Then I said to him, ‘It’s an earthquake,’ confirming our thought whether we should do something. He looked at me without saying a word, then he raised his left arm to calm me down. But the earthquake began intensively stronger that it made the class wall cracked. There was squeaking sound too. I looked into his eyes with this thought popped up in my mind, ‘Am I going to die with this person today?’ At the same moment, his eyes seemed to express the same question. It didn’t take me any longer to wait. As the shake got worsened, I ran off.

When we got downstairs, the whole places was covered by thick dust – dust from the past that had been sitting silently on the building to witness our world. It all fell down on the cars, motorcycles, trees, anything you can think of. The earth was still trembling a little bit. After quickly emerging from the clouds of dust, we gathered and talked to the rest people who were standing outside the building and shared our fear. To my own astonishment, the sharing was quickly healing us. We gave supports and strengths each other. Despite it all, I had to admit that it was the scarriest experience I’ve ever had during my working time at my university.

There, in the crowd, I was thinking about the togetherness I felt in the air. There’s a soft and translucent bond we shared in the close-to-death experience and I began to understand how powerful it is. By looking at these people flocking in the same place, sharing the same fear and worries but had survived through this horrible moment together made me understand the bond people had during hard times in some other parts of the world, such as 9/11. It was unbreakable. It will stay in our heart. We may forget yesterday’s experience, but the bond will tie us together eternally.

Have you ever been in the close-to-death experience? If yes, did the experience leave a bond in your heart behind? How did it affect your perspective on life?

 

on the new [temporary] friendship

I met new awesome people recently.

These people are embassy officials from one of our neighboring countries and will work and spend their three-year of life in Indonesia. They are full of spirit and ready to face any challenge. Meeting them is the best thing happened to me nowadays. Their spirit burns me. Their cultural jokes spice me up after my being dull and tasteless for some time now. No insult intended in our jokes. No offense brought about. No disappointment felt inside. We all take it modestly and still feel free to express our state of mind without leaving our usual selves behind.

Now I’m wondering whether I can frame this moment and keep it this way, but I know that’s not going to happen. Things change. Moments pass by. Time walks on, and so must I.

Therefore, as I reckon, the only thing I can do is to enjoy what’s in store for me now before it becomes the past.