i don't remember much.

...

And as I grow older, my memories will start to fade. Although moments that I remembered were trivial, but they're precious to me.

Going to a carnival, all five of us, using the old mega pro. I remember standing on the seat on our way there. Come to think about it now, it's very dangerous. But I was ecstatic. They bought us cotton candy that night.

We played paper dolls a lot. I remember him turning on the fan on both siblings' direction, not mine, so they have to rearrange their 'houses' while I laughed at their misfortune.

I remember us three joking around outside the praying room, i guess that was when I recently stopped being breastfed. I don't know why, but I thought nipples were hilarious that time. We laughed a lot that afternoon.

I remember the time he had to do morning prayer twice, just to lead me to pray. I don't remember much about learning to read Quran from him, but I remember that morning that I was praying only wearing underwear under the robe because mother refused to iron my kindergarten uniform (that weird yellow and green outfit) twice.

I remember going to the school he worked once, because there was no one who can look out for me after I got home from kindergarten. The trip to the school was long. The school itself seemed so big and empty.

I faintly remember the taste of his instant noodle. He added his unique touch with more seasonings and ingredients to make the meal tastier. I don't know how he can make the soup yellow and thick. All I know is that it was delicious.

I remember the first time I competed on the mosque's reading Quran competition. I was the first one that have to read the Quran.... and lost miserably (this was the start of my misfortunes with lot). Well, I was six and the other contenders were like four or five years older than me. He got me home afterwards.

I remember he flicked my ear once because I was being stubborn on going to Grandma's house for an event (mass praying or something), because then I'd skip the evening prayer. My ear was red and hurt, I cried, but he's firm on his decision, that I have to stay at home and pray before we went there. I know that I was being silly that time.

I remember the Eid Mubarak celebration that year at grandma and grandpa's house, when our youngest aunt was still pregnant with her youngest son. We took pictures of all the family members, except for mother's younger sister family who already went back because of the inheritance things. I didn't understand much that time. But I got a lot of money from mother's oldest brother.

I remember the trip to Brebes, the first and the last time we went there together with the Carry. The trip was long and we made frequent stops. We even stopped at Tegal (his friend's house).

I remember the trip to the hospital. I ate the leftover pudding mother made for him when we got home because I was starving. It was pink and very sweet. There's also a time when there were several people prayed for him at our second floor.

I saw his face for the last time that day. So many people came. They stuffed his nose with cotton. He looked peaceful.

I regret not seeing the burial, for I was too busy crying because mother fainted. But to think of it now, maybe I would be wailing and creating a fuss if I had gone to see people cover him with dust.

I used to think that I'm either special or unfortunate for growing up with only a parent. But now I feel lucky that I even had the chance to know him a bit. For there are far more people who does not even know their own parents.

I just wish that I was able to talk more to him. To know him better. To be with him for a longer time than six and a half years.
It's been twenty years since the last time I saw him.
I miss him.

when i was six and a half years old

People were crying. They said that seeing and listening to brother and sister fluently reciting Quran broke their heart.

Lots of people were coming. Our housemaid handed me handkerchiefs with candies stuck inside.

They took me to saw him for the last time before they cover him. Then mother was crying too. And she was even fainted once. I also cried for I don’t know what was really happening, but I did feel sad too.

I guess I still do now.

59th

Mio padre è alto.

Or at least I remember it that way. Although it's clear that to a six year old kid, every adult appears much taller than herself.

Lui è intelligente.

Because he was a teacher and he has so many books and his handwriting always look intriguing and cool (even though I couldn't read them anyway).

Mi piacerebbe rivederlo.

I don't really know how the after life works, but I'd like to see him again if I can. At least so I can thank him properly and say that I love him in person. And maybe to have some small talks as adults.

Amo, padre. Grazie.

Emotions and Detachment

“Learn how to detach.”
“Don’t cling to things, because everything is impermanent.”
“Detachment doesn’t mean you don’t let the experience penetrate you. On the contrary, you let it penetrate you fully. That’s how you are able to leave it.”
- Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom

I really love that word.
Detachment.
It was portrayed beautifully too in the book. It’s like that word is telling us not to fall into deep to everything because nothing is ever constant. I feel like this word is telling us to let go.
To move on. To start anew.
And that’s exactly what I’m trying to do right now.

“Change is hard, I should know. I should know. I should know.”
- Change Is Hard by She & Him

people's words.

i can't sleep.

i know it's late and i should probably get some sleep because i still have some *coughalotcough* works to do but i just can't focus any more. so yeah, i decided that i'm gonna rest for a while, by writing this.

ever since i've become jobless, i've been reading a lot of short fictions lately, with various genres and nameless authors on live journal (if you know me well enough, you will easily understand what and whom i'm implying here). and from those works,i got some really really good words that i really love.
i might not quote them properly and already forgot who wrote what (i'm really sorry for this), but at least i still get the main ideas (i think). here goes:

"...just remember the important things in life, don't lose sight of your goals, and you'll be fine."

"in life, you will face a lot of difficulties. but you can't keep runaway from them."

"and if i fail, i fail. but because i wasn't good enough, not because i didn't have the guts."

"it had to start somewhere. no matter how small the step you take, it had to start somewhere to get it done. and once it's done, you'll be free."


it's no secret that i loathe motivational or inspirational or self-help books, but when those messages were translated into a story, those gonna haunt me for ages. albeit the simple theme or plot or story line, they will really hit me, hard.

so i thank you dear authors, for writing those stories. for giving lessons that i refuse to accept in conventional(?) ways.
thank you so much.


p.s. i might or might not add the line from ice princess haha.
p.s.s. this post is actually dedicated to someone, but if this can help you in any way, i will be very happy for that too.
p.s.s.s. my left eye hurts but i'm still wide awake what to do, really.
p.s.s.s.s. writing in laps lock because i'm too lazy to deal with the shift key.
p.s.s.s.s.s. i really should stop and get some sleep. bye.

years.

just had a talk with ica, on how happy we were when we were so young, when we had close to nothing, but we felt content somehow. i'm feeling nostalgic right now. plus i'm high on sugar and i just can't sleep.

six years passed in a blink of an eye. my former roommate is now residing in banjarmasin. she just emailed me yesterday on how life is very different there, and how she missed home much. i'll reply her email after this, i promised her after all.

six years ago, who would have known that we will end up like this, when our worries back then feel very trivial now. when our problems back then feel very easy to handle now. when all the little things bugging us back then feel very small now.

it's kinda strange to know that six years ago this place felt foreign to me, though i consider this place as home right now. and what's weirder is the fact that i'm accepting it now. that the city life fits me better than the serenity my hometown offers.

what's more amazing is that i've met so many people in the span of six years. like, so many that my 16 year-old self will deem it impossible. and i can talk with them. i can converse with strangers now.

these past 6 years felt surreal somehow. but i'm grateful for it. really. thank you, all of you. :)

ohisashiburi desu.

so last year i said that i will update more, but i didn't.
this year though, there are so many things to write, but i don't know where to start. maybe i'll post something based on time sequence, but nothing is decided yet. i'll write and post something though.
i will.