do not read alone
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A s s a l a m u a l a i k u m readers, Weni again nih nongol, hopefully not bored well. This is my 2nd story, before reading I remind “Don't Read It Alone”, there may be someone who goes along, hihihi. All right, this is someone else's story that was retold to me, okay check it out!!
My name is Maria Rohana, just call Hana. A k u is a mother of 2 children, each child from a different marriage, I have failed to marry, therefore I say 2 children from a different marriage. In the first marriage my life was arguably very prosperous, my husband had a workshop, and he was the son of a distinguished family, we had a daughter call it Ratih. But the marriage did not last long, before we separated I decided to return to my hometown in East Java, because my husband was Sumatran.
We are officially divorced, I remarry with a widower without children, call it Anto. From this marriage we have a son named Ramdhan. My husband who now also comes from a fairly well-respected family in his area, Lamongan, even he is an S1 law graduate. But because of its overly sorting and job-selecting nature, our economy is highly disorganized.
Even I have to work from morning to night like when I was a widow, to meet the needs of the kitchen and just the pocket money of my 2nd child, because the first child was taken care of by my bude. It was Wednesday night, at about 18:30, it was raining
That night I came home at 18:30, as I said, because a power outage caused the store to be quiet and we were sent home. I came home riding my dad's motorcycle. At first everything was fine, until I went through a quiet road left right flanked by rice fields and without street lighting. When I passed a tree that the Javanese say juwet tree, I don't know why it feels like this head wants to look up and look up. But what happened when I did it was unexpected.
Right above my head, I saw a woman in white and long hair floating, I could not see her face. I was very surprised and felt great fear. Without a second thought, I immediately drove my bike at high speed and read the verse of the chair. I don't care even if I have to be wretched. I felt relieved when I reached the village of residents, and continued the journey home. This is the experience of a mother who has to slam bones for the sake of family. So-called.
D e m i k i a n my story this time, hopefully enough to make friends all entertained. W a a s a l a m u’a l a k u m wr.wb.
