MAY MOTHER BE LOVED BY GOD
A TOUGH STEP
Just like his life was the last three years. Kalong. Sleep in the day
day. Wake up full at night. Spending cold and light
a night of grumbling in a tavern, a downtown bar. Sit on
corner room. By ourselves. Stare fiercely at anyone who tries a sapa-stretched basabasi (including the flirtatious waitress delivering beer bottles).
His facial gesture and body movements were clear: Go!! Let me just
by yourself!
The sun is rising. Our young man is still asleep.
The sound of wooden sandals being dragged on the stairs to the room
that's 6x9 meters. Shrieky. The house is old, despite its architecture
the sheer style (a relic of the VOC colonial regime) made it visible
antique and elegant. Homeowners, middle-aged fat mothers
trying to climb the stairs. A little bit of a carry
his body. Slowly open the room door. Take a long breath. Glance
looking at the young man who was still sleeping
supine. Then I stepped towards the small table. Replace the old thermos
with a new one. He knows, these waters are rarely touched, but that's okay, anyway,
at least this morning's ritual ensures that these young children are still breathing.
The fat mothers with patient-maternal faces were once again staring at a glance
the young man on the bed before leaving the room. Staring concerned.
Wiping the ends of his eyes that are always swollen. Whispering quietly in
stuffy ceiling, "May You finally be kind, Lord....
Behold, in his sleep, in his drunkenness, in this condition,
his face still looks very shady.... May you finally be well
hearts...."
Mother rubbed her wet face. Complaining restrained. All of this
feels painful. How not? When you know and realize exactly
what you're dreaming about is just a 'dream'.
Doesn't a dream in sleep will not feel beautiful anymore when you
dreams in sleep can be a painkiller from reality
long bitter, why the opposite. Hot orange water makes
quilts blankets. Mother's trembling hands reveal it, looking
nanar Melati who was grumbling next to the bed, was
playing a chicken feather. "BA.... THE BAAA... MAAA...." Yells. Mother
rubbed his forehead. Take a glass that spilled near the pillow. This orange water may be prepared
Salamah this morning. Or her husband before leaving. Body
still feels weak. Trying sitting. Get off the bed.
"BAA.... MA.... AAA...." Screaming again. Jasmine banging table close
bed. Pulling phone handle. Throwing carelessly. Hair
curls wagging. His nightshirt is a mess. His hands are like
the tapir snout that was searching for ants in the tree hole, moved, spread out of control. His head was moving.
His black eyes were like lychee seeds swirling around. "You've already
awake, honey?" Mother asked weakly, trying to smile, though
the whole world knows that smile is free. Same with the
question just now. Melati keeps fumbling. Don't care. No
listened. Arriving at the edge of the bed, shaking the pillow. His mouth is open, though,
hissing out a wordless voice. The faces of children
just waking up it stuck forward. The visible face remains
adorable, no matter how much fate hurts him.
"Thank you for waking up, baby!" Mother soft
grabbing the princess' hand. Tried to try standing.
Sighs slowly. You know exactly who woke up who. This is just a jasmine morning ritual. Where to understand
Jasmine about sleeping and waking up
"Oh, Mom's clothes are wet! Why wet?" Sounding from the frame
bedroom door. Salamah rushed in while exclaiming as usual. Salamah heard the scream of Melati
kitchen, hurry up come ...
