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September 23, 2012

On These Rainy Days

The full-grown twigs were whispering
“Let it go”
I snooped around the leaves
My mouth was unbolted
Pulled out nothing, but breath
Then the beat of the soft voice were getting expeditious through my ear
“Let it go! Let it go! Let it go!”
I felt cheesed off until one more voice came along
I questioned where it spread out from
Becoming aware of how the voice grew to a great quantity
Out of the blue, the sprinkled water were drawing closer my space
Thus I grasped the origin of those additional voices
They were from several drops of drizzle in the sky
They were murmuring continually
“Let it go! Let it go! Let it go! Let it go! Let it go! Let it go!”
I was frantic with fear for a second time
So I gave myself courage to have some words
“What? What I have to let go of?”
The trees and the rain answered back in harmony
“Your worry and he"

June 26, 2012

Dear, Mama.

It makes me almost cry every time I see your hair which has been turning gray.
I've just realized that you aren't as physically powerful as you were before.
This year, you're fifty year-old.
You are literally old, Ma.
And that's what makes my heart full of scared.

I'm scared that you will leave me eternally. I know that every human being does die. I see that clearly.
But I just can't imagine if that death comes to you.
I almost never pass one day without you, Ma.
I still remember how spoiled I was back then.
At the age of three, I just could fall asleep if you stroked my back.
When I woke up from my catnap and you weren't next to me, I did cry until you came.
Also, I just wanted to eat if it was you who feed me.
Even when I was already 10, if I came back from school and I didn't find you at home, I did burst into tears.

Time flies.
I'm now 19. It makes me sometimes think that I'm an independent girl who can (and have got to) be alive and well by myself.
But, it also makes me turn out to be disrespectful, instead of autonomous.
I find my phone when I wake up.
I ignore your phone call when I'm busy.
I lock my bedroom when you ask me to have some dinner and I say that I will eat once I get hungry.
I look for foodstuff and bed as soon as I arrive at home after doing my routines outside.
Even I can instantaneously doze off when I listen to some songs.
Those are the saddest facts I ever found, Ma.
But facts are facts. I can't deny them.

Sometimes, I'm envious of my friends, Ma.
They are so close to their mothers, while I know I can't. We can't.
I always want to hug you or kiss you or just hang out to the mall with you.
But I always think that there's a wall between us.
The last time you hugged me maybe when I was just a baby.
And I even didn't know if you ever kissed me or not.

Ma, I know that your first daughter (/my big sister) is so intelligent and diligent.
She always did homework at home while I did it at school by copying my friend's answer.
Her national examination was the second best when she graduated from elementary school.
She got scholarship when she was at junior high school.
Her school reports were always almost perfect when she was at senior high school.
She was now one of 'mahasiswi berprestasi' at her college.
On the other hand, I got 30 or 40 at physics and chemistry when I was at high school, (even if I get 90 at physics, you know it didn't come naturally to me), I failed at some subjects, I never get scholarship, and, of course, I will never be a 'mapres'.

I'm sorry, Ma.
Sorry for being angry at you every time you compare me to my sister.
You're right, Ma. I'm just a loser.
Sorry for ignoring your phone calls when I'm busy with my friends.
I know your worries are beyond price. Those mean you sincerely care for me.
Sorry for never making you proud of me.
But I promise you, someday, Ma. Someday I will make you proud of me.
Sorry for always disappointing you. You know I never mean to.

And, thank you.
Thank you for treating me very well since I was in your tummy.
Thank you for believing that someday I will be shining and winning.
Thank you for everything, Ma.

I'm proud of being your daughter.
You're the best cook in this human race. You never make a spicy food for my meal.
You know what I love and what I loathe.
You know every detail about me more than everyone else (and I) can do.

I always wish that I will breathe my last breath at the side of you, or the reverse.
And before that day comes to us, let me say these-3-word.
I love you.
In some way, it makes me sad for the reason that I never heard you state this to me.
But... whatever.
I know you love me, Ma.


You're very good at editing photos even when Photoshop hasn't existed previously!    

Mama & me

Me, Mama, and my sister.
And... that PINKY DONALD BUT MICKEY bag. Well, scumbag bag is scumbag. If you see what I mean.

I've just realized that I look very like you when I saw some of your old photos.

Ma...
I know someday you'll read this post. Beforehand I'm sorry, I'm very dreadful at arranging words.
But I wish you'll be pleased after reading this.
I love you, Ma. I love you.