Heart And Love's

Looking at the Moon (Bag 1)

The Pajero Sport car roared out of my hometown. The sun shows a soft golden orange glow at dusk. The next few days will be very exciting. Because I'm going to come to the house of someone who's not going to meet, just look at his picture never.

“Sore-afternoon like it tastes best eating meatballs.” My mother made a suggestion.

“Nah fit tuh!” in unison, Mas Jundi, and Mas Emil said.

And we ended up in a pretty famous meatball stall in Pringsewu County, Lampung Province. Located on the roadside protocol is quite dense, plus a solid customer as well. Because the euphoria of Eid al-Fitr is still thick. This is the second day of Lebaran. All are enjoying the holiday allowance while chatting.

“You're nervous, ham?” Mas Jundi opens talks.

“Engga tuh.” answered me while putting on a cool pretentious face.

“Ah time.” Mas Jundi mocked me again.

“Serius.” while brandishing two fingers peace. “The important thing is to go forward first, the business there will how can be thought later.” said me again with a grimace.

Seven bowls of ludes meatballs were devoured by six men. As usual I always ask for one more bowl. Meatballs are my favorite food.

“Bu, about Shyntia nervous no ya?” I asked my mother as the car returned on the protocol road.

“It's definitely nervous. He just sent a chat to my mom. Said he was anxious.” replied My mother while chuckling.

“Shyntia can't want to be with me huh, ma'am?” I'm still amazed.

Sky Scenario

Mas Azzam bowed before the ruler. His face was red. His heart beat fast. He was in the most exciting moment of his life. Ijab qobul's.

Jami’ Manna Mosque suddenly quiet. All eyes were on a pair of men, four witnesses, and a ruler sitting in the middle of the mosque. A group of veiled women sat in the eastern part of the mosque wiping away tears. It is clear that they are the bride's friends.

Mas Azzam heard the guardians say. Heavy transfer of trust. Replacing the role of the father to love and glorify the bride. His hands shook into the right hand of the guardian of the bride-to-be. Slowly the voice of Mas Azzam cried out heavily with his hands that were still trembling.

“I received the marriage of Fiki Ajeng Eka Safitri with the dowry, cash!”

“Sah?” The governor gave a view to all witnesses.

“Sah!” Reply all mosques Jami’ Manna.

“Alhamdulillah.” Pengulu said hamdalah, which was followed by all the guests. Then continue with the prayer.

And there he was, bowed in the midst of a group of veiled women. Also chanting do’a for his sidekick who has just officially become a wife. It is Shyntia. Sitting behind a white woman. None other than my mother.

Shyntia clasped the hand of a middle-aged woman while opening the conversation.

“Not expecting yes, ma. Ajeng is now married. Then Shyntia's friend who's dong? Moreover, Kak Ajeng wanted to be taken by her husband to Lampung.” Moody speech.

“Mau, ma!” Shyntia sparkling.

That weirdness

7 Months before departure to Shyntia's house.

“Shintya ever dated?” Ask my mom via Whatsapp chat.

“Never, mother. Even Shyntia was once considered abnormal by Father and Mother.” Answer Shyntia.

“Kok can?” Mother's amazed.

“Iya. Because Shyntia is always indifferent when asked about men. Shyntia had never been interested in discussing it. Father, Mother, Brother, until sister-in-law often asked Shyntia whether she had a boyfriend or not. But Shyntia always said she didn't have one. Shyntia doesn't want to think about men just yet. Shyntia wants to focus on learning. Until finally considered abnormal by the family.” Shyntia replied.

“Then now?” Mom's curious.

“Since the first time Mama Wati explained about Ilham to Shyntia. There Shyntia felt steady. Mama Wati told me a lot about Ilham. He also showed his face, even though only through his photo. Shyntia did not look too much at the physical or the treasure. Shyntia likes it because her religion is good.” Reply Shyntia.

“Then? Shyntia has spoken to the parents?” My mother is still curious.

“Already. And then the whole house laughed at Shyntia. Someone who never falls in love. Always indifferent when talking about the people of Adam. No girlfriend. Never close to a man. Suddenly asked to get married. In the middle of the fourth semester of Medical Education program that he took. The whole family thought Shyntia was joking.” Her story.

“Good. Mother believes in Shyntia. Because Mama also believes in Mama Wati. So God willing Mother will immediately visit the residence of Shyntia. Mother and family want to get acquainted with Shyntia, Father, Mother, and the whole family Shyntia.” Mother's Response.

Manna, City of Memories

At nine in the morning we arrived in Manna, South Bengkulu Regency, Bengkulu Province. After fourteen hours of traveling combing across West Sumatra. Passing through the area of Bukit Barisan which is shaded by large trees, the road uphill, steep, and winding. Do not forget to be equipped by the presence of a herd of apes hanging on the side of the road. After exiting the Bukit Barisan area we met a road flanked by hills on the right side and the beach on the left side. The great God. What an amazing sight.

So many times I finally went back to Manna. In the past, we often went to Manna in order to match Mas Azzam and Mbak Ajeng. Today they are married, even their first labor is approaching.

My heart was pounding at the familiar streets in my eyes. Because in Manna there is only one large road for approximately three kilometers. There are two large mosques on this protocol road. Namely, the Jami’ mosque, where Mas Azzam and Mbak Ajeng performed the wedding, and another named the Rukis mosque. I'm sure Shyntia's house isn't far from this protocol avenue. Because the territory of Manna is not large.

Saturday Night, I look at the Moon

The euphoria of the holiday is still very pronounced. The night market is visited by many families, young people, to children who just play firecrackers. The Full Moon perched in the sky of the city of memories. It gives a cold atmosphere and a warm feeling. Far away on Earth, there was a woman in anxiety, and a man who was trying to regulate breathing. To stay relaxed.

“God's Mass. Son dashing mother once.” My mom complimented me on dressing up. Wearing semi batik shirt. Dongker blue, with golden threads that form an elegant batik motif, fine trousers in color in line with my shirt, black pantofel shoes that have been polished, black pantofel, hair that has been repeatedly given conditioner to keep it moist and fragrant, and of course always combed even though there is no change.

“It's neat yet, mom?” I asked while grimacing.

My mom just gave me a thumbs up. Nodding. “OK. When all is ready, let's go!”

Two white cars pierce the Manna protocol road, one belonging to my parents, another one belonging to Mama Wati. In the car I was just silent, hoping the distance was not close, because this time I was anxious, even though I knew Manna was a small area.